


From the World Beyond

by Proton6



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Australia, Domestic Fluff, F/M, HMS Harmony Discord's Jily Meets Harmony Challenge, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, Post-Canon, Recovery, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 79,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27801739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proton6/pseuds/Proton6
Summary: Harry and Hermione go to the Department of Mysteries two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts to destroy the dangerous Deathly Hallows that had caused the Wizarding World so much bloodshed and suffering. Never once did Harry imagine, however, that when he cast the three Hallows through the Veil, he would be exchanging them for three lost lives and a second chance at having the family and life that he had lost so long ago and had never known. Despite all that had happened, Harry and Hermione realise that they may be able to build a new life after all, together and with their loved ones by their side. Jily Meets Harmony Challenge.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 61
Kudos: 350
Collections: HMS Harmony Discord Writing Fest - Jily Meets Harmony Challenge





	1. Through the Veil

__

_16 May 1998 – two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts_

Harry retraced his path through the forest. It had to be in here somewhere. He had dropped it right around where he was now that night as he walked to what would have been his death. What should have been his death.

He should have died. Voldemort was, in a way, right. He had let them all die for him, and there was no reason to deny it. Sirius had died for him. Dumbledore had died for him. Moody, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Colin Creevey, and countless others had died for him. Even Snape, in a way, had died for him.

'Every death is on my head,' Harry muttered automatically.

'No, they're not,' Hermione whispered back, taking his hand and giving it a small squeeze. 'Nothing that happened is your fault.'

Harry stopped momentarily and turned to look at her. It had been two weeks since the war's end, but her face still bore an unhealthy colour, pale with a hint of yellow. She was still hurting, Harry knew, and this walk through the woods, retracing the steps that Harry had taken to die, was certainly not helping things.

'Are you sure you want to stay here?' Harry asked gently. 'You could…go back to the castle…'

Hermione shuddered a little. 'And see where everyone…where everyone…' She cleared her throat. 'No, I'll stay with you.'

Harry nodded and they slowly started forward again, hand-in-hand, carefully examining the forest floor for any trace of the Resurrection Stone among the hundreds of pebbles in the forest. They all looked identical, nonmagical, insignificant…

'Are you _sure_ you couldn't just use a Summoning Charm?' Hermione asked after several minutes of walking in silence.

'I don't think so. It's a powerful magical object…the Cloak never responded to Summoning Charms. Why should the Stone?'

'You have the Elder Wand,' Hermione reminded him. 'Try it with that.'

Harry sighed. 'I don't want to use it…'

Hermione stepped in closer, wrapping an arm around Harry's waist. 'You're trying to find the Stone so you could destroy it,' she said. 'And you want to do the same with the Wand. So why not use one to find the other?'

Harry nodded and, a little reluctantly, drew the Elder Wand from his pocket and raised it. ' _Accio Resurrection Stone_ ,' he whispered.

As expected, nothing happened. Harry lowered the Elder Wand and sighed dejectedly.

But then, there was a rustling noise coming from the forest floor about twenty metres ahead. The grass and the fallen leaves were shifting. A small black object shot into the air and flew towards Harry. Surprised that it had worked, Harry reached out with his free hand to catch it, only to miss. The stone hit him on the right cheek, bouncing off and falling to the ground at his feet.

'Smooth,' Hermione chuckled softly as Harry massaged his wound. It was surely going to bruise now. As if he needed another one…

Harry shot her a glare, bent down, and picked up the Stone. The moment it was in his hand, he was overcome with a sudden urge to _use_ it. He wanted to see his mother and father again, see Sirius and Remus again. Maybe even Tonks, or Fred, or…

That list went on towards infinity, with no existing limit.

'Give it to me,' Hermione said tenderly, but there was no denying that that was an order. She reached out with her right hand. Harry gave the Stone one last wistful glance and complied. Hermione stowed the stone in her pocket and looked at Harry sadly.

'I know,' she whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. 'I know you want to…but…remember what Dumbledore said? About how it does not do to dwell on dreams?'

Harry sighed. Tears were beginning to come to his eyes, and he did not stop them. That was one of the beautiful things about being with Hermione. He did not need to hide himself with her, not anymore. She would not judge him, not even when the rest of the world did…

'I wish I could just…apologise,' he choked. 'To everyone…the people I never did apologise to. Fred, Tonks, Colin Creevey, everyone else.'

Hermione slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him tightly to her. She did not say anything – not that there was any real need to say anything. What was there to say, after all? One could only say the same things so many times before they became empty and meaningless sounds.

'Ready to go?' Hermione asked into Harry's chest. Harry took several deep breaths, steadying himself, and nodded.

'Let's go.'

They walked in silence from the forest. Harry retraced the path that Hagrid had taken that fateful predawn, and his mind was once more clouded by the terrible visions and sounds of the war, of destruction, of death. But a small ray of light shone through the clouds, for he now had a goal, something that he wanted done. Something that was not cyclic mourning.

On their way down to the main gate, they passed Ginny and Ron, who had come up to the castle for…something. They looked like they wanted to stop and chat, but Harry simply gave them a curt and rather cold ' _Good morning_ ' and proceeded on his way. Ron looked a little miffed, and Ginny a little disappointed, and Harry did not really know how to feel.

A small part of him felt guilty for neglecting them, but he had no mind to fight against the sense of alienation from them that he had felt since the end of the war. They had their own grief that they needed to deal with as a family. He…well…he was damaged, far beyond repair. Hermione was being kind, naïve, or both, in choosing to stick with him. But he was glad for her support. She was the only one with whom he could relate. They were, in essence, both war orphans, after all. Hermione's family was in Australia, without their memories and not knowing that they had a daughter. And Harry's…well…

And where Ginny was concerned, Harry could feel nothing. Something had broken between them in the year that had elapsed from their breakup to now. There was no fire, no longing, and – Harry realised with a surge of guilt – very little _thought_ about her at all. Her and the rest of the Weasleys were grieving, Harry rationalised, they needed their space, not him coming in and throwing the family into disarray. But a part of him also knew that that was not the full answer.

They reached the Hogwarts gates. 'Let's apparate to the Three Broomsticks,' Hermione said. 'And use the Floo from there.'

Harry took her hand and they spun on the spot, reappearing in the middle of the pub a second later. The popular hangout had been destroyed in the battle. Half the roof had fallen in, and the bar counter had been completely smashed to dust. There were shattered wood planks and shards of glass everywhere, and Harry had to be careful to not trip or destroy his shoes as he made his way gingerly across to the Floo grate.

Madam Rosmerta was nowhere to be seen, and Harry left a few sickles next to the fireplace to pay her back for the Floo Powder. He lit a fire with his wand, threw a handful into the flames and called, 'Ministry of Magic, Minister's Office!'

He stepped through the Floo and landed on his arse in Kingsley's office. By the empty desk and extinguished lamps, he was obviously out. Hermione arrived far more elegantly a second later and helped him to his feet.

'The Unspeakables aren't going to give us any trouble, are they?' Hermione asked cautiously as Harry dusted himself off.

Harry shrugged. 'I hope not,' he murmured. 'Kingsley did clear our visit beforehand, we shouldn't have a problem'

Hermione chuckled a little as they walked out of the Minister's Office. 'I mean, they wouldn't be too…bothersome…when we throw irreplaceable magical artefacts across the Veil, would they?'

'Maybe a little,' Harry replied, smiling. 'We don't have to tell them _what_ we're throwing across the Veil, though. But…are you positive that it would even work? Casting the Wand and Stone through the Veil, I mean.'

Hermione nodded pensively. 'I'm almost sure,' she said. 'According to what I've read about it, the Veil…it's more than a barrier between life and death. It's a barrier between existence and non-existence, too. I'm not too sure on how the magic exactly works, but that's supposed to what it does.'

'Hermione, Hermione,' Harry teased. 'You don't know something? You must be slacking.'

Hermione smacked him across the chest. 'Shut up, Harry.'

Harry smirked. 'Is that the best comeback you can manage?'

Hermione gave him a glare and muttered something that sounded awfully like a swear under her breath. They got into a lift and descended to Level Nine and walked up to the fateful door. The memories of the last time he had been here coursed through his mind. It was the day that Sirius had died…the day that he had led five kids into a trap…the day _Hermione_ almost died…

Hermione gave his hand a comforting squeeze, which seemed to pull him back to reality. He grabbed the Cloak of Invisibility and threw it over both of them. He took a deep breath and reached forward, pushing the heavy door open.

They entered the hauntingly familiar circular room. Harry forced himself to not flash back again to what had happened here almost two years ago, instead concentrating on trying to picture the Death Chamber in his mind. The room spun, and the door directly across him glowed for a moment. Hermione squeezed his hand firmly and tugged him forward.

Hermione pushed open the door, and Harry was immediately hit by a cool draught. He looked down and saw with revulsion the dais, the Veil. This very place was where Sirius had died…

'Are you sure you want to do this?' Hermione was the one to ask now. 'We can always come back another day…or I can come by myself…'

Harry shook his head, swallowing to control his emotions. 'We're so close. Let's just get this…get this done.'

Hermione nodded and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him gently. Then, she took the lead down the steps onto the chamber floor. Harry could hear the flapping of the Veil in the eerie, non-existent wind as they got closer. This was Sirius's grave, in a way, Harry realised, but there was no tombstone, no marker, no buried body. Nothing but a severe, unemotional piece of cloth fluttering in a nondescript, worn-down, and, if not for magic, altogether unremarkable stone arch.

The duo stopped in front of the Veil, and they stepped out from under the Cloak. Harry drew the Elder Wand from his pocket and gave it one last look. A surge of power flowed through his right arm like an electric charge, but Harry ignored it. The Deathstick promised unbeatable power as the legends told and as he had seen, but Harry did not want any of it. Nothing was going to bring back what he had lost. Nothing, not even the Elder Wand, was going to bring back Remus, Sirius, or his mother and father… The Elder Wand was worthless to him.

He took a deep breath and shared a determined look with Hermione. She smiled slightly, nodding in approval. Harry brought his arm over his head and threw the Elder Wand as hard as he could through the arch. The moment it crossed the plane to the ethereal world beyond, the most powerful wand to ever exist in the history of magic vanished, sent away from the world of the living and existing, likely never to be seen again.

'It worked,' Hermione breathed, in awe.

Harry nodded dumbly. 'It did.'

Hermione extracted the Resurrection Stone from her pocket. She looked it over for a long second, then held it out to Harry.

Harry shook his head. 'I've destroyed one. You destroy the other.'

Hermione thrust it out more forcefully. 'You're supposed to be the Master of Death. It'd be fitting for you to do it. Maybe…maybe there's also some obscure magic about the Hallows that only the Master of Death can destroy it…it's better to be safe than to be sorry, isn't it?'

'Okay,' Harry murmured, taking the stone from her. She glanced at him nervously, perhaps out of concern that he was going to use it, but when Harry searched within himself, he found that he harboured not even a shred of such an intention. Somehow, he suddenly understood that whatever farce, whatever pale imitation, that had come out of the stone that night two weeks ago was never going to make him happy. There was truly no way to raise the dead.

Harry raised his arm, closed his eyes, and determinedly threw the stone into the arch. He watched without wistfulness as the little black stone sailed in an arc and impacted the plane of separation. It impacted in a small burst of light, then disappeared for good.

Suddenly, the Cloak in Harry's hand gave a strange jerk. It seemed to be tugging itself towards the Veil. He gripped it tighter, but that only served to intensify its movements. He looked at Hermione with a confused expression at his face. The Cloak had never reacted to any spell, any enchantment, any _magic_ , before.

'It seems like it wants to…wants to join the others,' Hermione whispered. 'It wants to…reunite with its…family.'

'Reunite with its family,' Harry muttered. He eyed the Cloak in his hands. It was silly, a part of him thought. As mystical as the Hallows were purported to be, they were still inanimate objects, incapable of thinking and having no will of their own. The Cloak could not possibly ' _want_ ' to reunite with the other Hallows, he thought, mentally scoffing a little at the whole idea. Besides, it was the only physical reminder, the only real memento, that he had from his father. He could not conceive bringing himself to let go.

But on another level, how could he so casually negate the magic of something that he knew nothing about? He briefly wondered how he would feel if he were trapped like how he wanted to trap the Cloak. How would he feel if he and Hermione were forcibly separated right here, right now, and he never saw her again? The answer was simple, of course. He would rather die, rather fade out of existence and be rendered to dust, than to live that sort of half-life.

He looked at the Cloak one last time, having made his decision. This chapter of his life – the 'Boy-Who-Lived', the 'Chosen One', the 'Defeater of Voldemort' – was over. The Cloak was just another reminder that he did not need of the war, the death, that he, his friends, and especially Hermione, had endured because of who he was.

He did not need the Cloak to remember his father by. The ones that he loved had never left him, and never will leave him, no matter what. He was sure of that. A physical object, no matter how sentimental it was, no matter who it had come from, would never be the anchor that kept those memories alive. All he needed was, as Dumbledore had said long ago, already in his heart.

'Go on,' Harry whispered to the Cloak. He released his grip on it, and it fluttered out of his hand all on its own. He watched it as it flew gracefully towards the arch, watched it as it crossed the invisible gate between worlds, watched it as it disappeared.

He turned to Hermione, who had an odd look in her wet eyes. Harry could read the admiration, the pride, but there was something else in her look that gave Harry a fuzzy, warm, tingling sensation that made his stomach squirm.

'I'm proud of you,' Hermione whispered, leaning in and planting a kiss on Harry's cheek. As she drew back, Harry caught a glimpse of a slight pink blush.

There was a flash of bright white light. Harry's head snapped back towards the Veil just as the light faded. Then it pulsed again, illuminating the entire plane of the arch. It dimmed, but a second later, it flashed again, even brighter.

'What's going on?' Hermione gasped. 'This isn't – agh!'

The arch lit once more, the light pouring out of the structure far brighter than it had been the previous few times it had pulsed. Harry's first instinct was to protect Hermione, fearing an impending explosion or an outburst of magic. He grabbed her and turned away from the Veil, putting himself between it and her. Even facing away from the Veil, the light was so bright that Harry had to close his eyes and shut them tightly to avoid being blinded.

'Is this supposed to happen?' Harry shouted.

'No! I mean, I don't know!' Hermione yelled back. 'I…well…you know what it looked like when S-Sirius fell through. The Hallows…they must be releasing some sort of magic!'

The light suddenly extinguished, and Harry slowly uncovered his eyes, letting his pupils return to their normal dilation. When he could see again, he gave Hermione a once-over to make sure that she was all right. Satisfied that she was safe and whole, he turned back towards the Veil.

His jaw dropped.

Three people stood in front of the archway.

On the left, a man with long, dark hair. He was dressed in the exact same clothes that he had gone through the very Veil in more than two years ago, but Sirius Black looked more handsome than he had ever been when Harry had known him. The toll that Azkaban had taken on him appeared to be all but erased.

In the middle, a man who looked almost exactly like Harry. James Potter looked just like he had when Harry and summoned him a fortnight ago with the Resurrection Stone. His hazel eyes settled on Harry as a smile crossed his face.

On the right, an exceedingly beautiful woman with long, dark red hair whose eyes were a familiar shade of green.

'Mum?' Harry breathed.

His mother's eyes settled on him. Suddenly, Harry realised that his arms were still wrapped around Hermione, and felt oddly self-conscious, but Lily beamed, her eyes glistening in happiness.

'Harry,' she whispered. 'It's so good to see you again, and so soon.'

Lily held out a hand, and Harry walked gingerly up to her and reached for it. When their hands touched, Harry felt real, warm, smooth skin, nothing like the ghostly imitations that had emerged from the Resurrection Stone.

'Mum,' Harry croaked. 'H-How?'

Lily smiled mysteriously. 'You brought us back.'

Harry did not know what she had meant, but he did not care anymore. Abandoning all other thought, he leapt forward and threw her arms around his mother. He squeezed her tightly and, never mind that so many people were watching, never mind that they were standing in the middle of the Department of Mysteries, began openly weeping into her shoulder.

Lily rubbed his back soothingly and did not say anything. Harry finally withdrew himself from her embrace and studied his mother's face. It was just like he had seen in the Mirror of Erised years ago, just like he had seen come out of the Resurrection Stone. That thought suddenly gave him chills. Was any of this real? Or was it just an imagination, another cruel trick that his mind and magic was playing on him?

'Are you real?' he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Lily smiled again. 'As real as you are.'

Harry's heart leapt. 'And…and you'll stay?' he asked, almost begging. 'You won't go back?'

Lily shook her head. 'You brought us back, we're here to stay.'

'I…I brought you back?'

James came up behind Lily and put one hand on her shoulder, using the other to ruffle Harry's hair. 'You exchanged the Hallows for us,' he said. 'Three Hallows, three lives. Can't you see?'

'I…I thought I was just destroying them,' Harry muttered. 'The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone…and then the Cloak tried to join the others…and I just let it…' He looked up at his father. 'Wait, how do you know?'

James chuckled. 'We have seen the great things that you have accomplished, Harry,' he answered enigmatically. 'We could not be more proud of you.'

Harry nodded, realising that perhaps he was not going to get any clearer answers from his parents. He removed his arms from around his mother and turned to Hermione. She had walked up to him in the time that he had spent conversing with his mother and father, and was standing right behind him with a beautiful, tender look on her face that somehow made Harry's heart melt and his face heat up.

'Hey,' she whispered.

Harry smiled back, then looked between her and his parents and godfather. Sirius an odd look of triumph on his face, while James seemed to look proud about something. Lily, meanwhile, was smiling as mysteriously as she had been before. Harry could not help but feel that they seemed to know something that he did not.

'Uh…where do we go from here?' he asked awkwardly to no-one in particular. 'I mean…the entire wizarding world thinks that the three of you are…uh…dead…what do we do?'

'We should speak to Kingsley,' Hermione answered. 'I mean…if anyone could sort it out…it would be him, wouldn't it?'

'Kingsley?' James asked suddenly. 'Kingsley Shacklebolt? That slightly stuck-up, slightly too rule-admiring Ravenclaw Prefect from our year? That Kingsley?'

'Uh…I guess,' Hermione said, sounding confused. 'He's the Minister for Magic now…uh…'

James whistled. 'Well, at least I showed him who was boss when it came time for selecting who was Head Boy,' he murmured.

Hermione nodded along. 'Um…okay…but I think we should go see him. No one else could clear up something like this besides him. Harry?'

Harry nodded awkwardly. 'Yeah, I think Hermione's right. Mum, Dad, Sirius?'

'I trust Hermione's judgement,' Sirius said. 'And Kingsley's a good bloke, Prongs. He'll work things out.'

James and Lily nodded their consent, and Harry and Hermione began leading the three of them up out of the Death Chamber. As they walked, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and took his right hand.

'How do you feel?' she asked in a whisper.

Harry shrugged. 'Happy, I guess. Confused, shocked. I don't know how I feel, Hermione.'

Hermione nodded and did not say anything more, opting only to give Harry's hand a gentle squeeze that seemed to calm slightly the tempest of emotions raging inside him. They made their way back through the circular room and all squeezed in to one of the lifts. As they crammed inside, James whispered something into Lily's ear that Harry did not catch, but which oddly made his mother giggle.

'It…it's really you, Mum?' Harry asked as the lift shot up, still in disbelief that he was somehow standing with his once-more living parents and godfather.

Lily turned her head and smiled warmly at him. 'It really is me, Harry.'

They got out of the lift and made their way towards the Minister's Office. The lights were on and the secretary was at the door. Kingsley must have come in while they were down in the Department of Mysteries.

'Is the Minister free?' Harry asked the secretary.

The wizard looked up. His eyes widened when he recognised Harry and Hermione. 'Y-Yes, Mister Potter,' he stammered. 'Yes, he's in. I'll call him right now.'

The secretary rose shakily from his desk and went to knock on Kingsley's door. 'Minister?' Harry heard Kingsley's voice murmur something back. 'Mister H-Harry Potter is here to see you.'

'Come in, Harry!' Kingsley called. The secretary looked positively ready to faint at his boss knowing Harry on a first-name basis. Harry rushed past him, being glad to be out of his presence.

Kingsley gave Harry and Hermione a small smile when they entered. 'Hello, Harry, Hermione.'

'Hello, Kingsley.'

'What is it that I can do for you?'

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, both trying to push the task of explaining the situation to the other. Finally, Hermione resorted to cheating, giving him a pouting puppy face, and Harry felt his defences crack.

He took a deep breath. 'We…you know where we were this morning,' he began.

Kingsley nodded. 'The Department of Mysteries?'

Harry took another deep breath. 'We…we went to dispose of the Elder Wand through the Veil,' he continued. 'And together with the Resurrection Stone…and my Cloak of Invisibility.'

Kingsley's jaw dropped open. 'You destroyed the Deathly Hallows?'

Harry nodded nervously. 'Yes, we did. But…uh…that's not what we wanted to talk to you about.'

Kingsley forced his mouth shut. 'I'm listening.'

'When we…when the last Hallow went through the Veil…something happened…something strange.' He exchanged another look with Hermione, and she gave a slight nod. 'Three people came _out_ of the Veil.'

Kingsley gasped. 'What? How? _Who?_ '

'Sirius,' Harry replied in a whisper, opening the door wider so that Kingsley could see into the outer office. 'My father, and…my mother.'

* * *

Everyone stared at everyone else for a long time, unsure of what to say or what to do. It was James who finally broke the awkward silence.

'Kingsley,' he said. 'Forgive me for acting like a prat all of fifth year. Especially that…Sticking Charm episode.'

Kingsley did not respond for a long second. Then, most unexpectedly, he began to laugh.

'You _are_ the real James Potter, then?' he roared through his guffaws. 'Ah…well, I have to say, you gluing me together with that girl Slytherin Prefect that happened to fancy me was an _excellent_ prank from my point of view.'

'Yes, yes, but most importantly, did the stoic, rule-abiding Prefect get a snog out of it?' Sirius ribbed as James cackled. Lily looked like she wanted to hex the two men, and perhaps even the Minister, too.

'A few, in fact,' Kingsley said, chuckling, before returning to seriousness.

'So, according to Harry and Hermione, you three…you three came across the Veil?' he asked. ' _Back to life?_ '

Lily nodded, swallowing hard. 'When Harry and Hermione disposed of the Hallows…something happened,' she said. 'Something seemed to…tug us back to the world of the living. I don't know how to describe it. It was…strange.'

'Your souls were brought back and given a body?' Kingsley pressed, eyes wide in awe. 'What exactly happened?'

Lily opened her mouth, but she could not produce a sound, no matter how hard she tried. 'I don't think I'm able to tell you,' she said finally, her face having grown red.

Kingsley nodded, seemingly unsurprised. 'The magics of life and death are, perhaps, not meant to be understood,' he muttered. 'No matter how many Galleons the Department of Mysteries demand to try to research it.'

'Looking back, it seemed like yesterday when I fell through the Veil,' Sirius breathed. 'The time in between…it must have happened…but it doesn't feel like it.'

Kingsley turned to Sirius with a sorrowful look on his face. 'Sirius, I'm sorry,' he said quietly. 'I'm sorry that I wasn't able to save you…'

Sirius shook his head. 'No, you had to fight your own battle,' he waved it off. 'It doesn't matter now, anyway, seeing as…well…'

'But if you didn't – '

'There isn't really a point in discussing it, Kingsley,' Lily interjected. 'We came back…somehow…but we came back. There's no reason to dwell on "what-if's".'

Kingsley nodded jerkily, swallowing hard. 'You…yes, thank you, Lily. Welcome back, I guess I should say.'

Sirius grinned roguishly. 'Yes, it is quite good to not be dead.'

Kingsley looked like he did not know whether he should laugh or frown. 'Well…uh…moving on…do you have a place to stay?'

Lily, James, and Sirius exchanged a look amongst themselves. 'They can stay at Grimmauld Place,' Harry supplied. 'I…well…it's Sirius's house…but I guess I own it now…they can stay there.'

Kingsley nodded, seemingly satisfied by the solution. 'Good, good. And do you have wands?'

Sirius, Lily, and James felt around in their pockets, each withdrawing their hands empty. They shook their heads.

'That's fine. Ollivander's shop just re-opened two days ago,' Kingsley said. 'The Ministry is subsidising all wand purchases for the time being, so money is no issue. One last…problem. The _Daily Prophet_ will hear about this eventually.'

Harry felt a lead weight sink into the pits of his stomach. As if the _Prophet_ was not already abusing Voldemort's downfall to sell copies enough! Of course, they would jump at a chance to cash in on the 'miraculous return' of the family of the 'Boy-Who-Lived turned Chosen One turned Man-Who-Conquered'.

'Can't you suppress the _Prophet_?' Harry moaned. 'Fudge did it all year when Voldemort returned…'

Kingsley shook his head. 'That would not be setting a good precedent for independence of the press, Harry,' he replied in a friendly but serious voice. 'We want to be pushing through reforms, not backsliding into the old ways for our personal convenience.'

'You could just let them publish the story of what happened and nothing else,' Hermione suggested. 'It'd get out eventually, anyway. The story doesn't need to get into specifics about anything. You could keep them guessing.'

'What Hermione said,' Sirius told Kingsley. 'It can't be kept under wraps forever, after all.'

Kingsley nodded pensively. 'Yes, I agree…well, we can stop the _Prophet_ from publishing any unfounded rumours or slander if it comes to it.' He looked towards Harry and Hermione. 'I'm probably cutting into time you could be spending together,' he said with an oddly suggestive tone. 'If you have nothing else you would like me to do, then I'll see you both hopefully sometime soon.'

He turned to Sirius, James, and Lily. 'However you came back…it's beyond incredible to be seeing you again.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I'm going back to my roots a little with this story, a shorter, mostly fluff story with Harmony developing immediately post-war, reminiscent of Life and Fate. For those of you who have stuck with me since when I published that story almost half a year ago, this story is dedicated to you. Thank you for all your support, encouragement, feedback, and kindness.
> 
> Specific thanks go to maschl for being my wonderful alpha for not just this story, but also for The Flame of Resistance, Hindsight, and Historical Fiction. Thank you to matteo caputo for the beautiful cover art. Also thank you to SweetShireen for bullying me into writing an entry for the Jily Meets Harmony challenge in the HMS Harmony Discord and for helping me bounce a couple of ideas. If you have not joined the Discord server and are interested in joining, use this link: discord.gg/2GcXw8R


	2. Cinema Paradiso

The five of them left the Minister's Office and past Kingsley's still-dazed secretary. They went up in the lifts and left the Ministry through the Atrium.

'Uh…where should we go?' Harry asked awkwardly when they emerged onto the street. He had no idea how he was supposed to speak to his parents and Sirius. The idea of _having_ James and Lily back was so new, in fact, that he did not know what to even think of them as. Did he think of them as truly his parents? Or were they something more akin to older siblings or friends? They were no more than five years apart in physical age, after all.

'Grimmauld Place?' Hermione suggested.

'Or maybe Diagon Alley?' Harry proposed. 'For the wands? Mum? Dad? Sirius?'

'Either is fine,' Lily replied. 'We could go to Ollivander's now, or if you two prefer to spend some time on your own, we can go to G-G-G – '

Harry slapped himself on the forehead for forgetting to let his parents in on the Fidelius secret. 'Mum, Dad, Sirius's old house is located at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.'

' – we can go to Grimmauld Place,' Lily now managed to finish.

Harry shared a glance with Hermione, silently asking her what she wanted to do. 'Maybe we should get the wands first,' she suggested, turning to face the…adults? 'We would need to bring you some time, anyway, I think. I don't know if you could get into Diagon Alley without us.'

Lily, James, and Sirius nodded. 'Wands first, then,' Lily said. 'Also…if I can ask something…'

'Anything, Mum.'

'You inherited Sirius's house, right?' Harry nodded. 'And you're letting us live there.' Harry nodded again. 'Where are you living, then?'

'He's living at my parents' house, Missus Potter – '

'Lily.'

Hermione nodded. 'He's living at my parent's house…uh…Lily.'

'Your parents are okay with that?' Lily asked. 'I mean…I wouldn't want you to intrude on them because of us suddenly appearing.'

Hermione's face darkened, and Harry instinctively took her hand and squeezed in support. That action did not go unnoticed, and Harry saw Sirius suppress a snicker. He shot Padfoot a dirty look, and he behaved himself.

'My parents…uh…I sent them…IsentthemtoAustralia,' Hermione replied, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. 'I…I modified their memories. It was during the war…the Death Eaters might've tried to hurt them…I…I couldn't…'

Lily stepped forward and patted Hermione on the shoulder. 'I understand. I'm sorry I asked,' she whispered.

Hermione nodded and swallowed her tears. 'It's okay,' she muttered. 'Let's just…go and do what we need to do.'

Harry gave her hand one last squeeze, then stepped forward and grabbed his father's and Sirius's hand as while Hermione went to take Lily's. They turned on the spot and disapparated, appearing a second later in the rear courtyard of the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione took out her wand and tapped the bricks in order. She had reclaimed her wand off of Greyback's dead body after Voldemort's defeat. Harry remembered the scene clearly in his mind. There was something almost feral about the look on her face as she stood over the slain werewolf with her wand, and at that moment, Harry had felt some unexplainable, suppressed feeling erupt within him.

The wall disappeared in front of them, and they stepped through into Diagon Alley. The street was still not its former self, Harry saw. It would be months, perhaps even years, before it regained its former lustre. Many of the shops were still shuttered, some perhaps forever. Fortescue's ice cream parlour, for one, was never coming back, he realised with a jolt of sorrow. The passers-by all still walked with their heads down, scurrying about briskly from one errand to another.

They made it to Ollivander's shop and pushed open the door. The inside was newly restored, but it had a stiff, clinical feel to it, as if it had not been broken in for real. The scars of the war were clear even in the attempts at restoring normality.

'I'll Disillusion you,' Harry whispered to his parents and Sirius. 'I want him to promise that he won't spread around the knowledge that you've come back. I don't think you need that information getting out so quickly.'

They agreed, and Harry drew his wand, tapping them each on the head, Disillusioning them. When he was done, Hermione reached over and rang the bell. Ollivander appeared seconds later from the forest of shelves. His eyes widened when he saw Harry and Hermione.

'Mister Potter, Miss Granger, how glad I am to see you again,' he greeted almost reverently.

'Hello, Mister Ollivander,' Harry replied tiredly.

'I have never thanked the two of you enough,' Ollivander said, quieter. 'Thank you for getting me out of there…for saving me…even when you were in greater danger…'

'It was our duty, Mister Ollivander,' Hermione replied firmly. 'What point would there be in working to defeat Voldemort if we ignore the innocents that he is torturing and murdering?'

'Yes, yes, certainly…but that is uncommon heroism, Miss Granger…in light of…'

Hermione shuddered involuntarily at the memory of that place and made a jerky movement towards Harry, no doubt wanting to bury her head in his chest or shoulder. Harry reached around her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side, while simultaneously stepping forward protectively.

Ollivander seemed to have realised that he had trodden on a raw nerve, and he backed off of the subject. 'What may I help you with today, then?'

'Before we tell you…we need to make sure that you keep this a secret,' Harry said quietly, imbuing a little slight bit of a threatening tone into his voice.

Ollivander nodded profusely. 'Certainly, certainly, Mister Potter. I guarantee confidentiality to all clients. Whatever you tell me does not get past the walls of this shop.'

'Thank you, Mister Ollivander.' Harry drew his wand and turned around, casting three _Finite_ 's and cancelling the Disillusionment Charms over his parents and Sirius.

Ollivander was confused momentarily. Then, his jaw dropped in obvious recognition of who had just stepped into his shop.

'Mister Potter?' he gasped. 'Miss…Missus Potter? Mister… _Black_? But…but…how? What's…what's going on?'

'This is what we need you to keep a secret, Mister Ollivander,' Harry said. 'My…my parents…and Sirius…somehow…returned. How…we don't know…and it's not important. They needed wands. That's why we came to you.'

Ollivander managed to snap out of his shock after a long minute. 'Y-Yes, of course, Mister Potter,' he stammered. 'I will keep th-this a secret, certainly…' He looked around nervously. 'They need wands, you said…yes…yes, okay.'

He got to work immediately, grabbing a magical measuring tape from behind the counter and began taking detailed measurements of Sirius and Harry's parents, muttering incomprehensibly and writing on a floating piece of parchment.

Ollivander went back and forth, carrying stacks of wands to try out. Most of them he seemed to be unsatisfied with, but one or two of them seemed to fit better than the others. Ollivander stacked them on the floor so that he could come back to them later.

Two hours had passed before Ollivander was finally done, by which time Harry and Hermione had almost fallen asleep out of boredom and fatigue. Hermione's head was already leaning on Harry's shoulder, and her eyes were drooping. Harry thought that the feeling of her hair on his shoulder was quite cosy, and the faint scent of her familiar and comfortable. Somehow, it made his mind wander back to the nights that they had spent together, alone, in the tent…

'Well, Mister Black, twelve-and-a-half inches, dogwood,' Ollivander said, jerking Harry out of his pleasant reverie. 'A most interesting core…yes…Crumple-Horned Snorkack feather from Svalbard. A prototype core that I have been working on for the past several years that seems to be producing powerful, if sometimes flamboyant and unpredictable, results. I expect that we will see more greatness from you, Mister Black.'

Hermione gave Harry a surprised look, her eyebrows in her hair at Ollivander's mention of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. If Luna were here, Harry thought, she would probably be skipping up and down in excitement, perhaps grilling Ollivander about the location of Snorkack colonies.

Ollivander handed Lily a box next. 'Eleven-and-three-quarter inches, pear. Dragon heartstring core. Appears to be incredibly loyal to you…most certainly a near-perfect match…'

Finally, he handed James his new wand. 'Twelve inches, spruce. Phoenix tail feather. It appears to fit as well as your…original wand, Mister Potter…many similarities in its powers and profile…'

The three of them took out their wands and gave them a wave, conjuring a shower of sparks. Harry had to cover his eyes and face as the sparks rained down.

'Very well, very well,' Ollivander exclaimed, clapping his hands. 'Your wands work very well for you…as I had expected. Well…if that is it…'

All five of them nodded. Harry felt eager to get out of here. It had already been a long day already He wanted to go back to Hermione's, put on a movie, get take-out, and waste the rest of the night doing nothing at all.

'You have my assurances that your presence will be kept secret,' Ollivander promised. 'I will not voluntarily reveal the identities of my clients.'

'Thank you, Mister Ollivander,' Harry said, stifling a yawn. He and Hermione stepped out onto the street, followed by Sirius, James, and Lily.

'We'll take you to Grimmauld Place,' Hermione said when they stepped out into the Alley, sounding exhausted. 'And get you settled in.'

'Are you sure?' Sirius asked, wiggling his eyebrows. 'We might be cutting into your _alone time_.'

Harry absently nodded. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Hermione had begun blushing deep red, but felt too drained to contemplate what it was about what Sirius had said that had elicited such a reaction from her.

'We'll bring you,' Harry said. 'Grimmauld Place has…changed somewhat.'

Harry and Hermione took the older three's hands and disapparated from Diagon Alley, reappearing moments later in front of the drab, slightly worn-down looking house.

'I remember the last time I'd been here,' James muttered under his breath when they arrived. 'Not something I'd like to rehash.'

Sirius nodded darkly and followed Harry and Hermione up to the front door. Harry drew his wand and tapped once on the knocker, and the door promptly swung open.

The inside was as dark as ever, but it seemed like Kreacher had been cleaning it in their absence. The floor was free of dust, and the furniture looked well-maintained. The curtains were open, and sunlight was shining through the windows into the dark house.

'Uh…is Kreacher here?' Hermione breathed.

There was a pop in front of them and Kreacher appeared, Regulus Black's locked on his chest. Hermione jumped, shrieking in surprise, perhaps not expecting the house elf to show up like this. Her hand shot towards her wand as face paled. She must have mistaken Kreacher for a threat, Harry realised. He shifted towards her and placed a hand on the small of her back, rubbing small circles soothingly.

'Did Mistress not mean to call Kreacher?' the house elf asked, sounding ashamed.

'No, no,' Hermione squeaked. 'Uh…I mean…yes, I did mean to call you, Kreacher…but…I was just surprised, that's all.'

'Kreacher apologises, Mistress,' Kreacher said, making a deep bow. He looked like he was about to go punish himself, but Harry's old order to him to never punish himself came in force, and he simply stood stiffly for several seconds before relaxing again.

'That's Kreacher?' Sirius gasp. 'He…he's unrecognisable…'

Hermione turned and stared at him, looking like she wanted to lecture him about proper treatment of house elves. But whatever reprimand she might have wanted to give was lost, and she nodded simply in reply. 'Yes, that's Kreacher.'

'O-Old Master?' Kreacher asked. 'Old, bad Master is back? Kreacher thought – '

' _Sirius_ is back,' Hermione corrected. She turned to Sirius with a no-nonsense look. 'Kreacher helped us defeat Voldemort, Sirius. He helped dispose of one of the…uh…one of his anchors to life. He's a hero as much as…as much as any of us…probably more so. You will treat him with respect.'

'Kreacher does not deserve Mistress's high praise,' Kreacher muttered to himself. 'Kreacher was simply carrying out Master Regulus's last order.'

'If it weren't for you, Voldemort might be still alive,' Hermione rebutted firmly. 'You lead the elves to fight against him during the battle, Kreacher. You are a hero.' She looked at Sirius with hard eyes. 'One which Sirius will treat with respect.'

Sirius swallowed hard and nodded jerkily. 'I'll treat him with respect.'

'Shake hands,' Hermione demanded, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Sirius gulped again but listened to her. He knelt down in front of Kreacher and awkwardly stuck out his hand.

'I promise I will treat you with respect,' Sirius groused out reluctantly.

Kreacher looked unsure of what to say, then immediately, he collapsed onto the floor and began bawling, yelling incomprehensibly through his sobs.

'Heir…Black…recognise…Master's…brother…good…faithful…Black,' he cried. 'Master Regulus…memory…Kreacher…not forget…'

'Uh…Kreacher,' Harry said quietly. The house elf looked up with watery eyes. 'Could you please…um…move to the side? We sort of…need to come inside.'

Kreacher nodded vigorously and scooted over to the side of the corridor, immediately recommencing bawling his eyes out. Harry and Hermione awkwardly stepped around Kreacher and led his parents and Sirius up the stairs.

'Uh…well…you know where your room is, Sirius,' Harry said when they got up onto the fourth floor. 'And…uh…Mum, Dad...' His voice died. It felt weird to be telling his mother and father where they should sleep. It made him feel, oddly, that Lily and James were _his and Hermione_ 's daughter and son. That thought kicked up a whirlwind of awkwardness within Harry. Some small part of him, however, strangely liked that idea.

'Lily, Prongs, you can take the room Harry and Ron slept in when they were her,' Sirius decided for him.

'Ron?' James asked, not recognising the name.

'Oh, that's Ron Weasley,' Sirius filled him in. 'Molly and Arthur's youngest son? Harry's best friend from – '

'Hermione's my best friend,' Harry blurted out, surprising even himself. He did not know where the impetus to correct Sirius had come from, but somehow, he was certain of what he had said.

Sirius looked at Harry for a second and gave him a small, odd smirk, and turned back to Harry's parents. 'Right, Ron Weasley, he's Harry's _friend_ from Hogwarts.'

Lily and James nodded and exchanged a look that seemed to convey a lot without words. That ability made Harry feel a little uncomfortable. The act seemed very familiar in a way, yet at the same time, entirely foreign for him, looking at it from the outside.

'Padfoot, you'll show us?' James asked. He yawned a little. 'I think I need a good nap after spending two hours with Ollivander.'

James's yawn made Lily yawn, too. 'I agree,' she said tiredly.

Sirius gave a roguish grin. 'Well, I'll show you to the room,' he said. 'And Harry and Hermione can finally leave and go somewhere where they can be alone.'

His suggestiveness was not lost even on Harry, who gave Sirius a death glare. He simply shrugged and chuckled mischievously before herding Lily and James down the stairs.

Fifteen minutes later, Lily and James were finally settled, and Harry and Hermione said their goodbyes. They passed Kreacher, who was still sitting on the floor, sniffling and wiping his nose with his tea towel, before exiting out onto the London street.

Hermione had a weird look on her face. 'What is it?' Harry asked, feeling concerned.

'No, it's nothing,' Hermione replied, shaking her head. But Harry knew it was not nothing. He did not push her, though. If it was truly important, Hermione would tell him in due course.

'Home?' Harry asked instead.

Hermione nodded. She took his hand and departed from the doorstep. They arrived right in the lounge of Hermione's parents' house. The space had a sterile, impersonal appearance that did not suit it. Hermione had put away all the photos of her parents the day they had moved in, unable to stomach seeing them. The tea set and dental magazines that had adorned the tea table had also been stashed away, replaced by spartan glasses and the remnants of old take-out. Neither of them had much motivation to cook, or do anything, for that matter.

'What do you want to do?' Harry asked hollowly, knowing that there were probably only one of a handful of options to choose from.

'Another movie?' Hermione suggested as usual.

Harry shrugged. He had no objections. They were boring, but boring was good. Boring meant that he got to lie on the sofa under a soft blanket and watch people be happy on a screen. Boring meant that he could forget about what had happened less than a month ago for at least a little while. Boring meant a quiet life with just Hermione, his best friend.

'Sure,' Harry replied. 'What movie?'

'You pick,' Hermione said with a smirk. It was their usual charade.

'You pick.'

'No. You pick.'

'No, I'm not picking.'

Hermione huffed and put her hands on her hips. 'Fine, I'll pick.' She bent down over a drawer of DVD's and looked through them, muttering occasionally under her breath.

'We haven't watched this one before,' she said, lifting a small box out of the drawer. ' _Cinema Paradiso_. It's an Italian film. I watched it once with…with Mum…' Her voice broke.

'Sure,' Harry replied quickly, his heart breaking a little for Hermione. She popped the disc into the DVD player and pressed a few buttons. The television came to life, the opening credits began to play.

Harry laid down on the sofa and grabbed their blanket. It was early summer, but it felt cold. It always felt cold. It was as if a dementor was always stalking nearby, waiting for its chance to strike.

Hermione laid down on the sofa next to him, snuggling close enough so that Harry could feel her breath on his neck. She took the blanket and threw it over both of them. Mrs Weasley may have disapproved of such physical intimacy between two people not romantically involved, and Harry most certainly did not want Ginny to see this scene, but it was comfortable – and comforting – to be with her like this. She was the only one with whom he could be this comfortable. She was the only one whose presence _helped_. Ron would certainly find this icky. Ginny would be never have been anywhere near enough. It really was only him and Hermione up against the world.

Just like always.

A main theme began to play. It started quiet, then, it began to crescendo into long, flowing phrases of melancholy, but which also seemed to speak of beautiful, salvaging love. The music seemed to meld with Harry's blood and course through his veins, going all the way to his heart and amplifying all his various, intertwined, unrecognisable emotions.

The track ended, and Harry found himself holding Hermione tightly to him. One of his hands was slowly and absently stroking her graceful brown curls. Hermione looked up, a tender expression on her face and unshed tears in her eyes.

'Do you feel it, too?' she whispered.

Harry nodded. 'I do.'

Hermione gave a contented sigh and leaned her head on Harry's right shoulder. They turned back to the television and the film began.

Harry watched as Salvatore came on screen, the eight-year-old, carefree son of a war widow, growing up several short years after the war that had killed his father. As time went on and he grew older, he befriended the operator of a local cinema, who took him under his wing. Harry gulped. The young boy's story seemed so far removed from his present reality, yet so close to his heart at the same time.

The film continued. Salvatore met fell in love with a girl named Elena, only to lose her to her father's disapproval, and him being forced away from his childhood when he was forced to leave his hometown for the army. He never again found Elena. The same hauntingly beautiful theme played again as he loved and lost.

When he left the army, the old cinema operator instructed Salvatore to leave his small town to seek his destiny in the city, and never come back. Harry's mind flashed back uninvited to that fateful June nearly a year ago. Dumbledore falling from the Astronomy Tower. Fawkes's lament. The white marble tomb. His decision to leave Hogwarts…

After years and years, Salvatore finally returned to his hometown for his old mentor's funeral, only to find that the old cinema was about to be demolished. To his surprise, the old man had left him something in his will.

An unlabelled film reel. An old projector stool.

A golden snitch. A sword in a pond.

Harry watched as Salvatore returned to the city. He finally watches the unlabelled film reel and found that it contained all the romantic scenes that had been cut from the films he had watched when he was younger. The film ends with tears in Salvatore's eyes, him making peace with the childhood that he had lost…

Harry and Hermione lay silently for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts. In a way, Harry thought, Salvatore _was_ him. His parents taken away from him at a young age by war – it did not matter that they were back now, they had missed almost seventeen long years of being together. He had found a mentor in Dumbledore, only for him to pass and send him away from his first and only home. But something was different. Many long years later, Salvatore had finally made peace with his past.

Will he ever?

As unappreciative as it sounded to him, having his parents and Sirius back seemed to fix so little. It was like plugging one small hole in the Titanic. The shock of it seemed more prevalent in his mind and closer to the surface of his consciousness than the knowledge that he had, through some impossible avenue, had the great fortune to have gotten them back. And it was only his parents and Sirius. Remus was dead, and Harry, having no more Hallows to sacrifice, would never bring him back. Fred was gone and George will never be whole again, and once more, Harry was powerless to help.

Cedric, Tonks, Colin Creevey, Mad-Eye Moody, Dumbledore…the list of people that he will never see again, never have again, was endless.

'I'm glad I have you,' Harry whispered in Hermione's ear.

Hermione inhaled audibly. 'I'm glad I have you, too,' she breathed into his neck.

Harry held her tightly, relishing in every rise and fall of her chest. It was selfish, he knew, but out of all the people that he could have lost, she was not one of them. And that was the most important thing to him. What would he be if he had lost his best friend, the one that had been through everything with him, from the best times to the worst times, stuck by his side even when he had not wanted her to, always looked out for him…

And to think that for so long, he never truly appreciated her, more times than not sided with Ron against her. And for what? Just so that he could have a laugh, have someone to joke around with, someone who readily abandoned him out of petty jealousy?

'You deserve better than me.'

Hermione looked up, her brown eyes boring into his. Her brow furrowed. 'What makes you think that?'

'I never stood up for you,' Harry whispered. 'I always took Ron's side, whether outright or…or just because I never defended you. Even when he was wrong…the Firebolt, the Yule Ball… _I forgave him in a second_ , Hermione, when he gave me a half-hearted apology after the First Task. And then again, when he came back after he had run out on us… I treated you like rubbish…a walking library…someone I took for – '

'No,' Hermione said gently but firmly. 'You have your faults, you've made mistakes…but I'm not perfect, either. You don't need to side with me every time – '

'But every time, you were right, and I was wrong,' Harry murmured. 'And…and…'

'You said that I was your best friend,' Hermione breathed.

Harry nodded. 'Yes, I did.'

'Did you mean that?'

'Yes, I did.'

Hermione smiled at him. 'Harry, you're also mine.'

'I don't deserve to be.'

Hermione shook her head. 'You definitely do deserve to be. Who else?'

Harry shrugged. 'Ron? Ginny?'

Hermione laughed. 'Ron? Please, we can't be in each other's presence alone for more than an hour straight. And I've barely spoken to Ginny except at the Burrow. Harry, believe me. You're my best friend.'

'You fancy Ron,' Harry pointed out as evenly as he could, battling against the small part of him that had risen in the last few weeks, the part of him that detested that whole idea.

' _Fancied_ ,' Hermione corrected. 'Because – ' She suddenly stopped, blushing bright red.

'Are you okay?'

Hermione swallowed a few times, then nodded. 'Anyway, that was a…a teenage fantasy. Ron's nothing more than a friend to me, Harry, and not my best friend at that.'

Harry smiled, feeling oddly relieved at that. He slapped himself mentally. Was he getting selfish? Hermione was his best friend, but he had no right to keep her for himself, to feel that sort of attachment and…was it possessiveness?

'I'm glad you can think of me that way,' Harry breathed. 'Given what I am…'

'What are you?' Hermione challenged.

Harry took a breath. 'A danger,' he murmured. 'Someone who gets everyone around him killed. Someone who has no family, has no ability to love, has – '

'That's rubbish,' Hermione said, cutting him off. 'You're not a danger. Nobody's death is your fault. And the rest…you…you got your family back today, didn't you?'

Harry sighed. 'I…I know I'm being so unappreciative, but…it doesn't feel like it fixed anything,' he replied, all his thoughts spilling out freely. 'Nothing will make up for the all the years without them…and all the others that died…they will never come back. There are no more Hallows to sacrifice…'

'Harry, listen to me,' Hermione said. 'You're not being unappreciative. You're in shock and you don't know what to do. Anyone would be. And, Harry, you know that you cannot possibly save everyone.'

'But I chose so selfishly – '

'You didn't choose,' Hermione reminded him softly. 'Magic chose for you.'

Harry began to protest, but Hermione put her hand over his mouth, stifling his voice. 'Nobody has any right to blame you, Harry,' she said with steel in her voice. 'If they do, they are the ones being selfish, not you. I will never blame you, Harry. Neither will anyone else who truly cares about you.'

'You will never blame me?' Harry whispered.

'Not for this, no.'

Somehow, Hermione's steadfast statement of confidence in him reassured him when he nothing else would have. Suddenly, he felt tears come to his eyes and did nothing to stop them. He hugged Hermione tightly to himself and wept into her shoulder, feeling somehow like the eight-year-old Salvatore as he let his emotions out, safe in her gentle embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words don't do justice to Ennio Morricone's Love Theme from Cinema Paradiso, the theme that I referenced in this chapter. I highly suggest that you give that masterpiece a listen, especially the cover done by 2CELLOS.


	3. Burned Bridge

Lily, for the first time in a long time, felt peaceful and rested when she woke up. Her first instinct was to go check on baby Harry. He probably needed feeding, or perhaps a nappy change. She opened her eyes and found herself in an unfamiliar room. It did not look like the bedroom in their cottage. She looked to her left. There was no crib there, either.

She had a minor panic attack before she realised that she was not in the Godric's Hollow cottage anymore, that Harry was not a one-year-old baby, but rather a grown man, going on eighteen years old.

It all felt so surreal. It all _was_ so surreal. The time between that Hallowe'en and today seemed to have been but a blur in her memory, one that she felt herself remembering less and less of with each passing hour. She felt like a protagonist in one of those science-fiction films, dumped awkwardly in the future by not much more than fate.

James was still asleep, and Sirius, the lazy dog, was probably in bed, too. The silence gave Lily some time to think on her own without distractions.

There had just been a war. Lily knew that from what she had seen…over there. She did not know of all of it – she had only seen snippets of what her son had done – and she was both proud of how he had risen to confront impossible evil and shocked by what he had been forced to face at the same time.

She briefly wondered if the wizarding world had any conception of post-traumatic stress disorder. Lily hazarded a guess at 'no'. It had been a relatively new subject of research in the muggle world, too, around the time that she had…well, died. She was not willing to bet in favour of the magical world catching up to the muggle world's scientific and medical knowledge anytime soon.

Her heart broke for her son. What it was that he must be living with! Lily herself had not seen much in the way of fighting during the first war, and even then, hearing about all those who had died had taken a toll on her. Her maternal instinct kicked in, and a part of her wanted to go and help her son in whatever way she could. But it all came crashing down as she realised that she had no more idea how to deal with it all than anyone else in the magical world.

And going to a muggle psychotherapist, no matter how tempting, was simply not an option for reasons that were obvious.

At least Harry had his girlfriend. Hermione, Lily remembered Sirius and her son call her. Lily felt a surge of affection towards her. Hermione made her son so happy, it seemed. They were openly affectionate without coming off as awkward or sappy. Plus, they had an uncanny ability to communicate without words that she had never seen before. It was almost awe-inspiring to watch them speak volumes without making a sound.

Lily got up and out of bed. She was wide awake already thanks to her musings, so she thought that she may as well as start her day. She ducked into the washroom and brushed her teeth, took a shower, combed her hair, and charmed her clothes from the previous day clean. She made a mental note that she would need to get some other clothes to wear soon. Not that she was more concerned about her appearance than she needed to be, but magically cleaned clothes simply did not _feel_ clean.

She descended into the basement kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea or coffee or anything, really. The house elf was still asleep, it seemed, and Lily was not about to wake him just so that she could avoid some work. As James had explained years ago, just because house elves were most happy when working for their family did not mean that you could take them for granted and take advantage of their psychology like _some_ pure-blood families did.

There was a half-empty can of instant coffee in one of the cupboards and no tea at all, so she grabbed a cup from one of the cabinets, poured some granules into it, conjured some water with her new wand, then heated it. The new wand worked well and felt comfortable, but she could not help miss her old one. She supposed that she would get used to it – it was just a sharp transition, after all.

She sat down at the kitchen table and sipped the drink. It tasted a little stale, but she was not expecting much better, anyway. Besides, her son that she had not known since he had been one year old was opening what was supposed to be his house to her, and it would have been quite rude to be anything but appreciative.

Lily had nearly finished her cup of coffee when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. She turned around to find James, sporting his classic morning look of crazy hair and lopsided glasses. She did not know when exactly she had begun to find it endearing, but endearing it was.

'Good morning,' James said airily. 'Taking advantage of Harry's hospitality already?'

Lily blushed a little. 'I…well…I guess I may have taken a cup of coffee without asking him first.'

James grinned. 'But that's probably better than apparating over to wherever he's staying and interrupting his and Hermione's morning love session, isn't it?'

'James!' Lily hissed, scandalised. 'I did not need to hear that!'

James shrugged easily and plopped down opposite her. 'Doesn't make it any more true. Padfoot can tell you, right, Padfoot?'

Sirius appeared from around the corner. 'You're referring to your son and Miss Granger's _absolutely sordid_ affairs?'

'Sordid isn't the word I'd use,' James said, smirking evilly.

'Given the way they blushed when I talked about their "alone time", I think "sordid" is definitely the right word,' Sirius shot back. He sat down next to Lily and put an arm around her shoulders. 'And you, my beautiful, how has your morning been?'

'Padfoot, you might not have the decency to refrain from talking about my son's various possible activities, but could you at least not flirt with my wife?'

Sirius ignored James. 'Did you hear something?' he asked Lily.

'I hear your possible death if you don't leave me alone,' Lily replied in a mock-threatening voice.

Sirius held up his hands defensively. 'Okay, okay, I see. Feisty one.'

'Now that Sirius has avoided being neutered,' Lily deadpanned. 'How's everyone's morning been?'

'It's been…weird,' James answered pensively. 'I woke up today wondering if Lily's changed Harry's nappies already. It wasn't until a good minute later that I realised that Harry would curse me to look like Snivellus if I tried to change his nappies today.'

He and Sirius exploded into laughter, while Lily just rolled her eyes disapprovingly. It was not that she was interested at all in defending Severus – it had been his choice to join the Death Eaters and no one else's, after all – but to hear them laughing about their bullying past when there were, in her view, more pressing matters seemed more than a little immature to her.

The Floo suddenly activated with a loud _whoosh_. Out stepped Harry and Hermione, still in their pyjamas, their faces red and hair a mess. In Harry's hand was a rolled-up newspaper.

'Fresh from your morning activities?' Sirius asked with a leer.

Harry looked genuinely confused. 'What morning activities?'

'The ones where you get all touchy and cuddly and kissy and then you – '

' _What?_ No…Sirius!' Hermione squeaked, blushing bright pink. 'Harry…Harry and I are just friends…we…we aren't…we haven't – '

Lily felt as if she had been hit with a lightning bolt of surprise. 'Wait, you're just friends?' she asked before she could stop herself.

Harry gave a tiny nod, his face flushed. 'We're just friends, Mum.'

'Oh,' was all Lily managed in response. She felt almost a sense of disappointment. She knew that she was being stupid – Harry had the right to choose his own relationships – but he and Hermione were just so…in tune…and they clearly loved each other more than anyone else.

They stared at each other awkwardly for a long minute. Finally, Lily managed to come to her senses. 'So…uh…what had you charging in here this early in the morning?' she asked.

Harry took a few seconds to process what she had said. He held up the paper in his hand. 'This,' he spat angrily. He stalked up to the kitchen table and slapped the newspaper down on it. 'Look at what the headline says.'

Lily leaned forward, turning her head so that she could read. ' _Mother, Father, and Godfather of the Boy-Who-Lived Miraculously Return_?'

'Exactly!' Harry snarled. 'They couldn't even wait _a day_ before publishing something about us… _about you_! And they didn't just write "oh, this is what happened". No, they just had to come up with ridiculous theories about it, too! Someone must've told! I…I'm going to…'

'Harry, we knew this was going to happen,' Hermione said soothingly, trying to calm him down. 'Someone somewhere must've told them…it could've been anyone…you'll never find him or her amidst every other witch and wizard in the country. And if there's anything _really_ bad, Kingsley did say that he could help us shut it down.'

'But they had…had no right to…'

'Since when did the _Prophet_ care about what they could or could not do?' Hermione posited. Lily found herself nodding in agreement. The _Prophet_ 's sense of right and wrong was quite…warped…at best.

Lily leaned forward and skimmed through the rest of the article. It was filled with truly insane theories, ranging from 'residual magic from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' to 'an alignment of the planets' to 'a portal to an alternate dimension'. To be fair to the _Prophet_ , though, the real story was probably not much more ludicrous than their speculations.

'Harry, sweetheart, it's really not the end of the world,' Lily consoled gently. 'As Hermione said, the _Prophet_ 's never really had a moral compass as to what they should or should not print. I mean…just ask James or Sirius. Back in the day, it was all gossip about the nonsense of this "Heir" or that "Heir".'

Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione hugged him from behind and whispered something into his ear. He took several deep breaths and the flush on his face gradually faded, his breaths returned to normal. Lily could not help but feel a little sad that Harry did not consider Hermione anything more than a friend…

'Yeah…you're right, Mum, Hermione…' he muttered. 'I probably shouldn't have freaked out like that.'

Lily shook her head. 'Anyone probably would have freaked out. The _Prophet_ has that kind of effect on people. Don't be too hard on yourself. Have you had breakfast yet?'

'We…uh…we were about to have breakfast when we got the _Prophet_ ,' Harry mumbled. 'We'll just…we'll go back now.'

'Nonsense!' Sirius cried gleefully. 'Come on, join us. It's not like this house is _so_ overflowing with people that we can't find space for the two of you!'

'But are you – '

'Of course we are,' James said with a smile on his face, standing up. 'We've never had breakfast together before, have we? There needs to be a first time for everything.'

'If it doesn't trouble you…'

'It doesn't at all,' Sirius replied happily. 'Kreacher's awake anyway.'

'You are treating him with respect, right, Sirius?' Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

'I…I am, yeah,' Sirius replied sheepishly. 'I mean…there's not much of a reason to hate him anymore, is there? He turned out not to be a blood-purity obsessed, muttering pain in the arse, didn't he?'

Hermione looked like she wanted to say something to that, but Harry shot her a look, and she held her tongue on whatever she had originally wanted to say. 'Right, one step at a time,' she murmured.

Harry gave her a grateful smile, one which she returned. Sirius called Kreacher, and he descended down the stairs a few seconds later, immediately going to work on making breakfast. Before even an hour had passed, Lily already felt gorged on eggs, sausages, and potatoes.

'So, do you have any plans for today?' Lily asked, suppressing a burp.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look and shrugged. 'Not really, no…well…we'd just sit on the sofa and pass the day watching movies or something like that,' Harry replied. 'But…I don't know if that's very much of a plan.'

Lily raised an eyebrow. 'Have you gotten out at all?'

'We've been happy to just…just be on our own, honestly,' Harry murmured. 'It's better that way than…than…' He sighed, and Lily saw Hermione's arm move slightly, taking Harry's hand under the table.

'Do you have any plans at all?'

'Plans?' Hermione asked hollowly. She and Harry shared a glance. 'Well…I suppose we'll have to go…go bring my parents back from Australia...some time…'

Lily's heart broke for them. They were clearly struggling, living from one day to the next with no thought for anything more. She wanted to help them, but she did not know how they would react to anything direct. Instead, against her will, she decided that the best course of action was just a weak nudge.

'Perhaps you could make plans towards that?' she suggested. 'It would give you something to do. Maybe you'd like that. I'm sure Kingsley could arrange for you an International Portkey in no time at all. He seems strict on the outside but he's really always happy to help.'

'I was thinking we'd go the muggle way, actually,' Hermione replied. Lily saw something resembling a glint in the girl's eyes as she went into planning mode. 'Neither of us has ever travelled by International Portkey, and frankly, we don't much like Portkey travel anyway. And Harry has never had much chance to travel in his – '

Hermione cut herself off mid-sentence and looked at her hands in shame. There was something about that reaction that Lily seriously did not like, and she felt a mental force push her aggressively to get to the bottom of this.

'Harry had never had much of a chance to travel in his what?' she pressed seriously. 'And why?'

'Mum, it's nothing – '

'It's not nothing,' Lily interrupted, even more alarmed by his denial. 'I can tell something's bothering you. Please, Harry. Let me make up for sixteen years of lost time. Answer me. What is it? And why?'

'There really isn't a need…'

'Yes, there is!'

'But I don't want you to…you to think of her differently because of – '

 _Think of her differently?_ Lily tried to parse what Harry had meant. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the realisation came to her, and she gasped in shock. 'Are you saying this is…this is because of _Petunia_?'

'I don't want you to think – '

' _Answer me, Harry!_ Is this because of Petunia?'

Harry looked up ashamedly and nodded slowly.

'What happened?' Lily demanded, her voice devolving into a hiss in her fury. 'What did Petunia do?'

Harry swallowed and shrugged, looking unwilling to answer. His face grew impassive as his eyes lost focus. Lily could see his face pale slightly, and him give an involuntary shudder.

'Harry, please,' Lily pleaded. If Harry had been through even one percent of what she was picturing in her head…she would go to Little Whinging right this very moment and rip Petunia limb from limb.

'Harry, she's your mother,' Lily heard Hermione whisper in Harry's ear. 'I know it's still a shock, but she only wants to watch out for you.'

'But I don't want her to think differently of me.' Harry murmured back.

'You told me,' Hermione said. 'And we're still the same. She's your mother, even if…well…even if you've sort of just met. She still loves you. You know she does.'

'I know we've…we've really just met, Harry, but I could never think differently of you, sweetheart,' Lily promised. She needed to hear. She pleaded Harry silently to tell her.

Harry struggled himself for a minute. 'She…they kept me in a cupboard under the stairs,' he finally breathed. 'And made me do all their housework.'

Lily's temper flared. She wanted to start shouting abuses directed at Petunia. How _dare_ she treat Harry like that! Harry was her blood, no matter how much she disliked Lily. How was that fair, to push her hatred of the mother onto the son? She forced her anger down, though. She needed to hear it all.

'Is there anything else?'

Hermione snaked an arm around Harry's neck and gave him a reassuring squeeze. It seemed to give Harry the courage to go on.

'They…they would…they would hit me if I got…I got a better mark than Dudley on a homework,' he muttered. 'I…I forced myself to do poorly at school because of it.'

'Did they hit you for anything else?' Lily asked, her anger-amplified pulse coursing through her ears.

'They would if…if I didn't do a chore right…or wanted something Dudley got…or angered Marge…or anything, really,' Harry breathed. 'And Dudley…Dudley never really needed an excuse to punch me…or throw me down the stairs…and Uncle Vernon wouldn't take me to the hospital if…if he broke my nose or something. He just told me to "sleep it off".'

'That's…evil,' Lily hissed. Involuntarily, she grabbed her wand and stood up, backing her chair away from the table.

'Where're you going?' James asked in surprise.

'To go teach Petunia and Vernon a lessen,' Lily growled. She stormed out of the kitchen and threw open the front door, slamming it behind her. She jumped down the steps onto the pavement in rage, turning on the spot and disapparating, picturing the house that she had visited only once in her head. She had hoped never to go there again, but this visit…it was sixteen years coming.

Lily reappeared in front of Number Four and looked around. The cul-de-sac was identical to how it looked in her memories. The houses did not seem to have changed even one bit. The cars were different from twenty years ago, but they were all still creepily identical to each other. Having had enough of the scenery, she charged up to the front door and kicked it as hard as she could.

The door opened, and on the other side, was a wide man with a walrus-like moustache who probably had more chins than fingers.

'Vernon Dursley.' Lily's voice was filled with venom as she pronounced the name.

'Have you ever heard of knocking?' Dursley snapped.

'Interesting,' Lily growled. 'You must have heard all about knocking. Perhaps…knocking an eight-year-old down the stairs because he wasn't a perfect _slave_?'

'We would never treat Dudley like that,' Dursley protested, but Lily did not need to use Legilimency to see the fear grow in the lard tub's eyes.

Lily grabbed Dursley by the collar. 'You know exactly what I'm talking about,' she breathed dangerously. 'Where's Petunia?'

Dursley gulped in fear. 'Where's Petunia?' Lily demanded, louder.

'P-Petunia's in the kitchen,' Dursley stammered.

Lily threw the man away from her. 'Go get her!'

Dursley gave her one last frightful look before disappearing into the kitchen. Several short seconds later, he returned, pulling Petunia by the hand.

'Well, hello, Tuney,' Lily said icily. 'How long has it been since we last met, I wonder? Nineteen years?'

Petunia stopped in her tracks. Her face bleached white as she recognised Lily. 'Wh- _What_? H-How?'

Lily laughed cuttingly. 'Expected to cover up your crimes forever?'

Petunia scowled. 'Crimes? What crimes? Who are you? My sister died sixteen years ago. You aren't her!'

'Really?' Lily asked conversationally. 'So, you don't remember when you called me a freak on the platform? You don't remember when you wrote to me, telling me that you've disowned me as a sister? You don't remember that you let your husband threaten _my son_ a month after he was born?'

Petunia's eyes widened as she realised that Lily was, indeed, Lily. 'F-Freak!' she shrieked. 'Y-You… _how dare you come back_?'

'How dare I come back?' Lily asked. 'Why, it almost seems like _magic_.'

Petunia sneered. 'Still as arrogant as ever, aren't you, Lily? Always needs to show up your older sister. Mum and Dad always went "Lily this" and "Lily that". Where was the time for me? You never left me any!'

'Perhaps if you weren't so obsessed with your self-victimisation, you would have cherished more the ample time that you did have,' Lily replied coldly.

Petunia snorted. 'So what are you here for, Lily?' she snarled. 'Are you here to rub it into your old sister's face that you've _returned from the dead_ like the freak that you are? I don't need to hear the rest of it. Go! Enjoy your _magic_ and never bother us again!'

'No, I have no intention of rubbing it into your face,' Lily said, feeling dangerously calm, like a bomb primed to explode. 'I'm here to talk about how you've treated my son for all the years that you were supposed to be _caring_ for him.'

'We gave him houseroom, we fed him food from our plates, we clothed him, we put him through school until he went back to that freak world of yours,' Petunia sneered. 'What more do you want from us?'

'Perhaps to have treated him like a human being?' Lily shouted in fury. 'You abused him, hit him, used him as a slave, probably starved him, let your beast of a son use him as a punching bag!'

'Don't you dare disrespect Dudley!' Dursley roared, rushing at Lily with his fists raised. Lily almost lazily drew her wand and slashed it once, casting a silent Impediment Jinx. Vernon Dursley stopped in mid-air, flailing his arms wildly, before Lily released him and stuck him to the floor with a Sticking Charm.

'I don't know if you were ever taught this, Dursley, but respect is earned,' Lily whispered dangerously, taking a step up to the enormous man's body. 'Nothing that I have heard about Dudley makes me think that he warrants my respect. Incidentally, neither do you, Dursley. It seems like apples do not far from the tree.'

Lily looked up at Petunia and twirled her wand threateningly in her hand. 'Are you trying to kill your own sister?' Petunia shrieked.

'You didn't seem to consider me your sister when you tried your best to kill Harry.'

'We were doing a deed to society! Freaks like him – like you – can't mix with normal people!' Petunia cried. 'We simply tried to force that…force that unnaturalness out of him before he could damage the rest of us!'

Lily advanced on her sister slowly. 'Well, my son's broken nose and other physical injuries don't seem to reflect a deed done to society.'

Petunia backed away from her, her furious look suddenly changing to one of fright. 'I-I…what're you going to do to me?'

'You think I'll kill you?' Petunia nodded nervously. 'Of course I won't kill you. That's too good, too painless. And on a more personal note, it's certainly not worth becoming a murderer for you, Petunia.'

'You'll turn me in to the police?' Petunia asked, trying to look defiant.

Lily snorted. 'Like I'd fall for that,' she sneered venomously. 'You've probably cleansed all the evidence of everything you'd done. The police will let you walk free, even if we both know that you deserve nothing less than to be locked away until the end of your life.'

'You'll let me go?' Petunia gasped hopefully.

'I never said that, either.'

Lily backed Petunia into a corner of the kitchen. Petunia's beady eyes scanned the room, looking for a way out, but Lily knew that she knew that it was hopeless. No matter where she tried to run, Lily could put her down before she even reached the door.

'So…tell me, Petunia, how many years were you supposed to have cared for my son?' Lily hissed, tapping her wand menacingly on the countertop.

'If you hadn't gotten yourself blown up, we wouldn't have needed to house him at all!'

'How many years?' Lily demanded. She felt a surge of anger flow through her veins. Bright red sparks shot out of the end of her wand, and the look on her face must have been dangerous enough that Petunia tried to back away from her further, only to hit her head on a cupboard.

'T-Ten years,' Petunia stammered, massaging her head.

'And he came back here every summer, didn't he? Only for you to torture him for two more months.' Lily added the time up in her head. 'That must have been…another full year of abuse that you heaped onto Harry.'

Petunia's face was paler than paper now. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Lily took a half-step up to her and raised her wand. 'You've never really seen what magic can do, have you?' she whispered. 'Well, you'll see now.'

Lily pointed her wand at Petunia's face and waved it several times in complex patterns, casting a series of charms and curses. A rope of golden light wrapped around her head and entered her body through her chest. She saw with a measure of satisfaction that Petunia was on the verge of fainting.

'What did you do to me?' she breathed.

'You've always liked to gossip, didn't you?' Lily whispered. 'Always found your joy in tearing others down. Well, Petunia, it's time you found out what it feels like to be on the receiving end of all that. Tell me, what do you think of my son?'

'He's a freak – agh!'

Petunia clutched her chest as a surge of pain shot through her. She looked back up at Lily with a terrified expression. 'What have you done?' she gasped.

'Showed you how it feels like to be on the receiving end of your bile,' Lily spat. 'You tortured my son for eleven years, so for the next eleven years, every time you try to say something bad about Harry – about anyone – you will feel the pain that you inflict on others inflicted right back on yourself.'

'This isn't fair!' Petunia protested feebly.

'Yes, because abusing Harry for eleven whole years is fair,' Lily shot back acidly. She turned her gaze towards Vernon, who was still lying on the floor, twitching and trying to free himself from the Sticking Charm. 'And as for your husband…'

Lily walked over to where Vernon lay. She cancelled the Sticking Charm and immediately conjured ropes to bind him to the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Petunia shaking in fear as she levelled her wand at her husband's prone form.

'So, from what I've heard, you were the one who always inflicted the worst abuse on my son, weren't you?' she hissed. 'You beat him, threw him down the stairs, refused to take him to the hospital when he was sick or injured – _from your hand_?'

Vernon looked like he wanted to say something, perhaps insult Lily in reply, but all he was capable of doing was opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, no sound coming out. Lily thought that he looked rather like an overweight, ill-tempered goldfish.

'You wanted to make yourself feared, didn't you, Dursley?' Lily breathed. 'Thought that you were so powerful when you beat my son and worked him like a slave? Thought that you were so powerful to have an eight-year-old fear you? Well…why don't we give you a taste of what it's like to fear?'

She jabbed her wand at Vernon. A toxic blue jet of light shot out from the end and hit the prone man in the chest. Vernon's jaw dropped open in shock as the curse hit him, but a second later, his frightened expression was replaced by one of anger.

'What the bloody hell was that?' Vernon roared, struggling against the ropes. 'What did you do to me with your…your freakishness?'

Lily shot the man a contemptuous glare. 'What did I do to you? You made my son live in constant fear for eleven years, so I made sure that you will live the next eleven years of your miserable life in the same constant fear. There's a spider by your right ear, by the way.'

Vernon suddenly shrieked in fright, trying to get his head as far away from the non-existent spider as he could. His struggling, however, was hindered by the ropes binding him. Lily saw his face turn purple as he realised that he was not going to escape. A dark spot grew on the front of his trousers, and Lily forced down a disgusted retch.

'Why did you have to do this to us?' Petunia suddenly cried, near tears. 'I'm your _sister_ , Lily!'

'You lost the right to call me that the moment you laid your hands on Harry,' Lily said icily. 'You know…you had a chance, Petunia. You could have acted like a real mother towards my son. _Your nephew_. You could have put aside whatever dislike you had for me and cared for him like he was yours, and he – and I – might actually have come to love you and be thankful for you. But you did not do that. Instead, you beat him, starved him, tortured him, treated him like a slave.'

Lily cast her sister a look of pity. 'You sowed the wind, Petunia, and now you will be reaping the whirlwind for a long time to come.'

* * *

'Harry, do you want to go home?' Hermione whispered. 'I'm…I'm sorry I pushed you.'

'It's…it's okay,' Harry murmured. 'I…I should have…would have told her either way.'

Hermione wrapped her arms around him tenderly. 'I still shouldn't have pushed…you have enough on your mind without all that.'

'It's fine, Hermione…can we just…can we just go back?'

Hermione nodded. She looked towards Sirius and James, who were sitting with their heads in their hands. James in particular looked furious and terrified in one, no doubt over the Dursleys' treatment of Harry. Hermione understood how he felt. If it had not been for Harry restraining her when he had first come clean to her about his past at the Dursleys, she would have stormed off to Privet Drive just like Lily did and probably obliterated all three of the Dursleys.

James and Sirius seemed to understand without words, and Sirius gestured to the fireplace. Hermione through a pinch of Floo Powder into the fire and whispered, 'Sixty-five Darwin Drive'. She stepped into the fire and pulled Harry in with her. They spun through the nauseating network for several seconds before collapsing into a heap of tangled limbs on her living room floor.

Hermione extricated herself, stood and helped Harry up. She pressed him down onto the sofa and went to make him a cup of tea. A hot drink always seemed to help matters, experience told her. She returned a few minutes later and pushed the cup into Harry's hands before silently taking a seat next to him.

'Thank you,' Harry whispered finally.

'What for?'

'For pushing me to do it.'

'I shouldn't have.'

Harry shook his head. 'Yes, you should have. It…it helped.' He set down his cup and looked her in the eyes. Hermione felt an entirely inappropriate squirm in her stomach as his eyes locked with hers. 'Hermione…don't take this the wrong way, but…telling someone else but you…it was a relief.'

'I understand,' Hermione replied. 'And…you don't have the obligation to tell me anything, Harry.'

'I don't,' he agreed. 'But I want to. You…until yesterday, you were the only one I had left, you know.'

'You had Ron.'

'No, he was not the same. Really, never the same,' Harry said quietly. 'It was always you.'

Hermione felt flattered, oddly glad, that Harry thought of her like this. 'But now I'm not the only one anymore,' she replied meekly. 'You have your parents.'

'It's…it's not the same,' Harry murmured. 'I know I love them, and they love me, but…they're still like strangers to me, Hermione. All except Sirius, maybe.'

'But you will get to know them in time,' Hermione consoled. 'And…I know nothing will make up for sixteen years, but…but they'll feel like your family again. They _are_ your family, after all. You'll…you'll always have them.'

Harry directed towards her an intense look and held it for a long time. 'But you don't have yours,' he whispered guiltily.

Hermione felt a lead weight sink into her stomach. 'I…I…'

' _We_ ,' Harry corrected. 'We'll go find them, won't we?'

'Harry, I can't ask more – '

'You don't need to ask. You wanted me to go with you, don't you?' he breathed. 'I can…I can see it. And if you want to, I will.'

Hermione swallowed, feeling heat rise up to her face at Harry's intense gaze. 'O-Okay…if you want to…I'd love for you to…I mean…'

Harry gave her a heart-warming smile. He offered her a hand and pulled her up from the sofa. 'Let's do some planning, then. That should cheer you up, shouldn't it?'

'Prat! I'm not all books and research. I can have fun, too!' Hermione protested. She grinned and playfully smacking Harry on the chest, feeling the tension of earlier magically wash away as they fell once more into their rhythm.

'Yeah, Hermione. You keep telling yourself that!'

Hermione laughed as she raced Harry upstairs to the study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Aani for her feedback and suggestions on the Petunia-Lily confrontation.


	4. Renewed Hope

'Do you have any idea where they might be?' Harry asked as Hermione looked through her library for an atlas.

'The big cities?' Hermione said unsurely. 'It's where I would go…not that that helps us much when we're looking for two people in a city of several million.'

'Is there anyone who can help us?' Harry wondered out loud as Hermione grabbed a heavy book off the shelf. 'The Australian Ministry…or…something?'

'My parents are muggles,' Hermione reminded him, setting the tome down on the desk. 'And they travelled to Australia as muggles. The Ministry wouldn't know that they're even in the country.'

She flipped open the book and turned to the page marked 'Australia'. 'Well, there are several large cities,' she mused dejectedly. 'Perth, Brisbane, Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide…if we try to brute-force search, we could be there for the rest of our lives and never find them…and that's assuming that they _are_ living in one of the bigger cities…'

Hermione sighed sadly, and Harry, seeing a look of despair on her face, instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze. 'Maybe your parents left some…some hint of where they were going?' he suggested hopefully. 'Maybe a note? Or something else that could tell us where they went?'

'Maybe,' Hermione muttered. 'I guess…I haven't even opened their bedroom door since…since we moved in here…I suppose there could be…could be something in there…'

'It's worth a shot,' Harry said, trying to sound confident. 'We should go take a look.'

Hermione looked unsure, but nodded and led the way down the corridor. She stopped in front of the closed and locked door. It was the one room that she had never wanted to enter. It, more than any other space in the house, reminded her of the depressing reality that her parents were still missing and had no idea who she was.

Harry kept his distance. To enter or not was Hermione's choice, after all. She took a deep breath and drew her wand from her pocket. After another second's hesitation, she tapped the lock, and it clicked open.

Hermione gulped hard and turned the doorknob before slowly, pushing the door open and stepping over the threshold. Harry crept up gingerly, still trying to give her space.

'You don't have to stay out there,' Hermione said in a small voice. 'Come in.'

Harry stepped into the room after Hermione. Her parents' room has a minimalist and geometric look to it that was simple but not austere. The walls were painted a dark bluish-grey colour, and all the furniture and textiles matched the colour scheme perfectly. The nightstand had a digital clock and an empty vase on top. Everything was covered with a thick layer of dust, a clear indicator of how long the room had been left uninhabited.

Hermione waved her wand once. All the dust picked itself up off the floor and vanished into thin air. The room was tidier now, Harry supposed, but the clean-up impressed on it the same austere and sterile appearance as the lounge on the ground floor. Harry felt an involuntary chill go down his spine at that.

He and Hermione looked around. Harry constrained himself to looking only on the exterior surfaces of the various pieces of furniture and did not open any of the drawers or closets, leaving them for Hermione to look through. It was her parents' room, after all, and he would respect her family's privacy.

'Harry, I found something,' Hermione breathed after several minutes of searching. 'Come here.'

Harry turned and walked briskly over to where she was standing. Hermione was looking with rapt attention at the inside of a wardrobe. It was covered in sticky notes, Harry saw. He craned his head to look over Hermione's shoulder as he tried to read the tiny, scrawling text.

'Most of it's mundane stuff,' she said, carefully reading each note. '"Buy groceries", "get the car fixed", "reschedule appointment" or…oh my god!'

Hermione suddenly knelt down, pointing at one specific note among a sea of yellow, pink, blue, and green. Harry got on his knees next to her and squinted to read the tiny handwriting.

_Flight to Hobart booked. Hand over keys to practice to Mr Sheridan Monday morning and close purchase of home (by the bay!). Remind J to call solicitor when he inevitably forgets._

'Hobart…that's where they must've moved to, isn't it?' Harry breathed, realising.

Hermione nodded, giving Harry an ecstatic look, and shot to her feet. She dashed out of the room towards the study, Harry following her. She flipped open the atlas and turned to the map of Australia. 'Hobart…Hobart…Hobart…there!'

She pointed at a dot on the southern side of an island south of Australia. 'There,' she gasped. 'Hobart…capital of Tasmania…' She looked up at Harry with a radiant expression and threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. 'That's where they are! We've found them!'

'Now we'll just have to get to Australia,' Harry said with a chuckle.

Hermione laughed musically. She pulled back from Harry's arms and kissed him on the cheek. Harry suddenly felt a jolt of self-consciousness at the feeling of her lips on his skin. 'We'll fly, of course,' she said. 'Flying…well, it's an interesting way to travel.'

'I've gotten on a broom,' Harry chortled. 'That's close enough, isn't it? Well…you wouldn't know…'

'Oh, shut it,' Hermione snapped playfully. 'Not everyone fancies risking their life for no reason other than to catch a tiny golden ball.'

Harry shot her with a look of mock indignation. 'You can't just insult Quidditch like that!'

'I just did,' Hermione replied with a smirk. 'What're you going to do about it?'

'I'll…I'll…'

Hermione snorted. 'You'll stammer at me then, I guess.' She grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil from the pencil holder on the desk. 'Okay, so…do you have a passport?'

Harry shook his head. 'The Dursleys never saw the need to get me one. And then I went to Hogwarts…I don't even know if the muggle government knows I exist.'

Hermione huffed at Harry's mention of the Dursleys, but thankfully for him, she did not pursue the topic again. 'We'll need to get you one of those,' she said, writing it down on her to-do list. 'We'll also need to get plane tickets, find a place to stay once we're there – we probably can't expect to find them on the first night. And…uh…'

Hermione looked up. 'I'll need to go check my building society account. I think I might have some money left over there…'

'I can get money out of my Gringotts vault,' Harry said. 'That should cover it.'

'What? No! You don't need to!' Hermione protested. 'I…I don't know exactly how much I have left over…but I might have enough. You don't need to – '

'What if it's not enough?' Harry asked. 'It's better to be prepared than to go to the…wherever you go to buy tickets…with less money than we need.'

'It's the travel agent's,' Hermione said. 'And anyway, I think I should have enough left to get myself tickets. I don't think I'll have enough to cover you, too, though…'

'Hermione, did you really think I was going to let you pay for me?' Harry asked with raised eyebrows.

Hermione gave a tiny shake of her head. 'Well, so why do you think I'm going to let you pay for me?'

Harry sighed. 'What if you don't have enough for aeroplane tickets, though? Or what if you have just enough and not any more to go…wherever you want to go? Didn't you want to see Australia, too?'

'I did, but – '

'I can withdraw some Galleons from my account,' Harry proposed. 'And if you find that you don't have enough or anything like that, I'll cover for you.'

Hermione looked uncomfortable, but gave a tiny nod. 'Fine,' she replied quietly. 'But I'll pay you back for everything.'

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione shot him a look that forced him to hold his tongue on his protestations. Just as they were about to turn back to their planning, however, Hermione gasped, her hands shooting up to cover her lips.

'What?' Harry asked, alarmed.

'I just realised,' she said. 'Your parents.'

'What about them?'

'The vaults,' Hermione explained. 'Wouldn't they belong to them now? Now that they're…now that they're back?'

'Oh,' Harry breathed. He had not thought about that implication at all. 'I…uh…I guess they might.'

Hermione shot Harry a questioning look. 'Shouldn't you ask them, then, before you withdraw anything?'

'I…I guess I'll have to, won't I?'

Hermione nodded contemplatively. 'You should. I know it was your money, but…you shouldn't assume that nothing's changed…'

'It never really was _my_ money, was it?' Harry muttered. 'I didn't actually earn any of it.'

'All the more reason to ask first. And besides…' She shot Harry an inquisitive look, 'Wouldn't you want them to come with you?'

Harry furrowed his brows. 'Come with me? Weren't we going to bring back _your_ parents?'

Hermione shrugged. 'I don't know, it was just a thought, but…it would be a good chance for you to get to know them again, wouldn't it?'

'Maybe,' Harry said doubtfully. Hermione had a good idea, he supposed, but he could not help but feel unsure and awkward at the prospect. He had known his parents for barely a day, after all. It felt a little like going on holiday with a group of strangers…

Hermione reached over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. 'I know how you feel,' she said quietly, her brown eyes looking intensely into his own. 'It feels awkward, strange, shocking…a bunch of things…doesn't it?'

Harry nodded, and Hermione smiled reassuringly, squeezing his hand again. 'They were your family, Harry, and they will be again,' she breathed. 'You'll have to take the first step towards really becoming that sooner or later. And it's better that you take it sooner…every day you wait is one less day that you'll have together.'

Harry felt a surge of emotion well up in him, an odd mixture between a renewed longing for his parents and affection towards Hermione for her words. She had somehow cut through his haze of confusion to the tempests raging in his heart. He swallowed hard, forcing back the tears. This was not something worth crying over, certainly not something worth burdening Hermione with.

'You should go talk to them,' Hermione said tenderly, letting him maintain his silence. 'Use the Floo downstairs if you'd like.'

Harry nodded and descended down into the lounge. He took a deep breath, suppressing his emotions, before throwing a pinch of Floo Powder into the flames.

'Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,' he called, before sticking his head through.

An uncomfortable second later, Harry found himself looking into the house's dimly lit basement kitchen. Lily had evidently come back from the Dursleys' already, for she was sitting at the table, reading a book from the Grimmauld Place library. Sirius, meanwhile, was sipping a cup of tea and staring dumbly at a long roll of parchment. James was nowhere to be found.

'Mum? Sirius?' Harry called, getting their attention.

Lily jumped in surprise, nearly dropping her book, and rushed over. 'Harry! What's going on? Is everything okay?'

'Everything's fine, Mum,' Harry replied. Lily immediately calmed. 'Are…are _you_ all right? You rushed off and I was worried that something bad was going to happen.'

'Nothing bad happened…at least not for me, anyway,' Lily replied darkly. 'I gave Petunia…exactly what she had coming for her. Vernon, too. Anyway, why are you here?' she asked, forestalling Harry's question of what exactly she had done to Petunia.

Harry reluctantly decided to go along with her, swallowing his question. 'I just wanted to ask you something.'

'Anything, sweetheart.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'Remember how Hermione had to modify her parents' memories and send them to Australia before the war?'

Lily nodded sadly. 'Poor girl…I can't even imagine how much it hurt her…'

'I didn't, either, for a long time,' Harry murmured. Truthfully, it had not been until the last few weeks, when they had been living out of the same house together, that Harry had truly realised the magnitude of the burden Hermione was carrying. A part of him felt constantly ashamed that he had not picked up on it earlier, had not noticed, had not consoled her…had not _cared_ …

'Are you two going there to get them?' Lily asked, pulling Harry out of his guilty introspection.

Harry nodded. 'We are. And…I wanted to ask…the vault at Gringotts – '

'You want to use the money from your vault,' Lily finished astutely. 'Right?'

Harry nodded sheepishly. 'Well…it's not my vault anymore, is it? Wouldn't it be yours and dad's? And the money Sirius left me…that's his now.'

Lily shrugged. 'It's all under your name. That's what our will said. You can use it however you'd like. Besides, even if we were alive for the last sixteen years, we would've let you use it once you turned seventeen. Provided you get a good job and don't plan to live your entire life off it, of course.' Her eyes narrowed. 'You _are_ planning to get a job, right?'

Harry nodded emphatically. 'Yes, of course I will. I…I just don't know what I want to do yet…I haven't had much time to really think about it…'

Lily's expression grew sad. 'I understand,' she whispered. 'There's no rush, Harry. Finding what you really want to do takes time. All I really wanted to know was that you _were_ planning to get a job.'

'So…can I get money out of the vault?'

Lily grinned. 'Of course you can, it's yours! There's only one condition, though.'

'What?' Harry asked, puzzled at what his mother could possibly have in mind.

'You'll have to treat Hermione _a lot_ with it,' Lily answered brightly. She wagged her finger at Harry. 'Don't let me hear that you didn't offer to buy her ice cream at every opportunity.'

Harry felt his face burn. 'I…uh…yeah…okay, Mum. I…uh…I'll buy her ice cream…whenever she asks.'

'Not when she asks. You have to offer.'

Harry sighed. 'Okay, Mum…I'll offer whenever I can.'

Lily beamed. 'That's better. Is there anything else?'

Harry nodded, glad of the opportunity to change the subject. 'Would you like to come with us?' he asked. 'I mean…if you're able to…if you don't have other things here…'

'As in…you want us – Sirius, James, and I – to all go together with you and Hermione?' Lily asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry nodded. Despite Hermione's words, part of him still felt awkward at the idea of them going on 'holiday' together, but now that he had actually broached on this topic with his mother, he felt another part of him fill with excited anticipation. Hermione had been right – this was as good of a chance as any to get to know his parents again.

'I…if you'd really like me to…I'd love to go with you,' Lily answered after a few moments' thought. 'I'm not too sure about James and Sirius. James is at the Ministry right now, talking to Kingsley. He and Sirius want to join back up with the Auror Office. Speaking of Sirius…Padfoot, what exactly _are_ you reading?'

'A giant roll of parchment from Gringotts,' Sirius said tiredly from the sofa.

Lily rolled her eyes. 'I'm not blind, Padfoot. What's on the roll of parchment?'

'It's the family account records,' Sirius answered, lowering the parchment and taking a sip of tea. 'Lucius and Cousin Bella made some massively shady dealings using money from some of the Black vaults, paying mercenaries or bribing officials or whatever. Somehow, it now falls to me to pick out the illegal transactions so that Gringotts can demand the Galleons back from the bastards.' A sly grin suddenly came over his face as he shifted his gaze onto Harry. 'Did I hear correctly, Harry? You're planning to take Hermione on vacation?'

'Well...uh…we're going to go bring back her parents,' Harry replied. 'And Hermione thought…er…do you want to come with us, Sirius?'

Sirius cocked an eyebrow. 'Come with you? And witness all your icky, sappy romance?'

Harry felt his face burn, but before he could remind Sirius, yet again, that he and Hermione were not dating, Lily shot him a death glare, which served to shut him up. 'Just answer the question, Padfoot.'

Sirius wiped the smug smirk off his face and replaced it with a genuinely happy smile. 'Come with you? You've clearly lost your mind asking me to, but…well, I'm not going to say no to sunny Australia, am I? Not after being stuck in here for…Merlin knows how many years,' he said, sounding almost dreamy. 'I always thought that I'd be the one to take _you_ on holiday, though, not the other way around.'

Harry could not help but snort. 'Is that a yes, Sirius?' he asked with anticipation.

'That's a yes,' Sirius said with a bark of a laugh. 'Now…if you'll excuse me, I need to finish reading through these records before Account Manager Bonecrusher lives up to his name.'

'Will you come too, Mum?' Harry asked eagerly as Sirius plopped back down on the sofa picked up the roll of parchment. The awkwardness of earlier seemed to have all but evaporated, and he now found that he was barely able to contain his excitement at the prospect of travelling together with Sirius and his parents.

Lily grinned. 'Of course I will.'

Harry beamed. 'You will?'

'I will,' Lily confirmed, her smile widening.

'What about Dad?'

'I'll ask him for you,' Lily promised. 'But unless something happens, I'm sure he'll say yes.'

Harry, feeling giddy in his euphoria, tried to throw his arms around his mother, but was prevented from doing that by the fact that the rest of his body was still back in Hermione's living room. 'I'll…I'll go tell Hermione,' he chirped excitedly. 'She'll want to get planning…and we'll – '

'Surprise me,' Lily supplied, grinning. 'Go on. Enjoy your time together.'

Harry said goodbye to his mother and jerked his head back through the Floo network. He dusted himself off and stood up. Hermione had come down from the study in the time that he had been talking to his mother and Sirius, and was now standing next to the fireplace with an expectant expression on her face.

'What did your parents say?' she asked.

'They said I can use the money,' Harry quoted. 'As long as "I get a job".'

Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'And are you going to get a job?'

'You sound just like my mother,' Harry grumbled good-naturedly. 'Of course I will.'

Hermione chuckled. 'So…are you sure about this? I mean…I don't think I'll have much of a problem – '

Harry felt recklessly adventurous in his happiness, so he leaned forward and pecked Hermione on the cheek. He pulled back to see Hermione blushing bright pink at the gesture. 'Yes, I'm sure,' he answered firmly. 'Didn't we decide this already?'

Hermione sighed but nodded, a little reluctantly. 'And what about your parents and Sirius? Did they – '

'Mum and Sirius said they would come with us,' Harry replied enthusiastically. 'Dad wasn't home, but Mum said that he would want to go.'

Hermione gave a wide smile. 'That's…that's incredible! I'm so happy for you.'

'Yeah, it's…it's something I've never even dreamt about,' Harry said. He tried to temper his giddiness for the time being. Judging by the long list that Hermione had made earlier, they had errands to run. 'Gringotts?'

'Can we…take a shower first? We haven't even properly cleaned up…'

'We? You want us to take a shower together?' Harry teased, latching onto her slip.

Hermione flushed as red as a tomato. 'No!' she squeaked. 'I didn't mean that! That's…that's…well…I just didn't mean…'

Harry laughed heartily and let her go, seeing that she was perhaps too embarrassed for further ribbing. He took the time while she was in the shower to change out of his pyjamas. He then tried in vain to tame his hair a little before giving up, instead pouring himself a glass of juice and sitting down on an armchair to wait.

Hermione appeared a few minutes later, changed and ready to go. Her hair was still a little damp, which made it more messy than it usually was. The sleep had washed off her face, and her creamy complexion looked soft, enticing, and quite _kissable_.

Harry slapped himself mentally for having those impure thoughts about his best friend. It must have just been a result of his earlier quip, he thought, that had placed these images into his mind.

'Let's go?' he asked, standing up and banishing the vivid picture of him and Hermione snogging from his mind.

'Let's go,' Hermione said, holding out her hand.

Harry took her hand and they apparated together into Diagon Alley. It was just as deserted as it had been yesterday, when they had come to get his parents and Sirius new wands. It felt like anything but yesterday to Harry, though. The meeting at the Veil seemed like either an eternity ago or something that had just happened an hour earlier. His subconscious mind could not settle on one time and flitted wildly between the two.

They made their way to the front of Gringotts, where two goblin guards wielding threateningly large axes were standing just inside the door. Both recognised Harry instantly and shot him a dirty look.

'Stop, human,' one snarled, banging his axe against the ground. 'What are your intentions?'

Harry blinked. 'Uh…to withdraw money?'

The goblin on the left narrowed his eyes. 'If you seek beneath our floors, a treasure that was never yours…'

'I'm not,' Harry insisted. 'I just wanted to withdraw some money from _my vault_. That's not illegal, is it?'

The two goblins sneered at him. 'You are not welcome here, human.'

'I'm not trying to take anything,' Harry said, exasperated. 'I just want to withdraw some Galleons.'

The goblin guards turned to each other and exchanged some words in Gobbledegook before the one on the left looked at Harry menacingly. 'We will find a free account manager. Stay outside our domain, human.'

Harry sighed and nodded, realising that this was probably the best he could hope for. The goblin on the left disappeared into the bank, while his comrade alternated between sneering at Harry and banging his axe against the floor. Finally, the guard returned, an older goblin in tow.

'Key,' the new goblin snapped. Harry obediently fished out his key from inside his coat and handed it over. The account manager looked at it carefully for a few seconds and nodded.

'The amount you are withdrawing?'

Harry, to be honest, had no idea how much he was supposed to be withdrawing. He had hoped that he could simply grab a full bag of Galleons and call it a day, but evidently, that was not going to happen today…or perhaps forever, depending on how long the goblins held their grudge.

'How much is…uh…fifteen thousand Pounds in Galleons?' Harry asked cluelessly.

'Harry!' Hermione hissed indignantly. 'That's – '

'Six hundred fifty-two Galleons,' the goblin snarled, interrupting Hermione's coming rant. 'Is that how much you're withdrawing?'

'Yes,' Harry replied firmly, cutting off Hermione's protests. 'And…can you please convert half to Pounds and half to…whatever currency they use in Australia?'

The goblin looked at Harry like he was an idiot. 'The "whatever currency" is called Australian Dollars, ignorant human. Is the withdrawal final?'

Harry nodded. The goblin shot him one last look of disgust before stalking off back into the Gringotts halls. The two guards returned to their places at the door and crossed their axes, completely blocking off the entrance. Briefly, Harry considered what would happen if he ended up being _persona non grata_ for the rest of his life. Would he have to ask Hermione to run to Gringotts for him every time he needed money? Or perhaps, Hermione was unwelcome, too, considering her central role in the break-in. Perhaps his mother or father would be able to enter the bank? He was at a loss for ideas for suitable arrangements.

Harry waited for what must have been at least half an hour. A handful of witches and wizards showed up and were let through by the guards, but they would then immediately cross their axes and sneer at Harry threateningly once the permitted visitors had entered. Finally, just when Harry thought that he could not stand the ill-tempered guards any longer, the account manager returned, a small, nondescript muggle wallet in his hand.

'Your money is contained within,' he said, thrusting it out roughly at Harry, who quickly took it from the belligerent account manager. 'Seven thousand five hundred Pound Sterling. Eighteen thousand thirty Australian Dollars. You have been charged ten Sickles for the wallet. Good day.'

Before Harry could ask how exactly he was supposed to use the wallet, the account manager trooped off, and the goblin guards closed off the entrance again. Harry opened the leather bifold. It had two pockets – one containing a single fifty-Pound note, and another containing a foreign note marked with a '100' on top. Harry pulled out the fifty-Pound note out of curiosity. Instantly, the pocket refilled.

'Well, that answers that question,' he murmured as they walked away from Gringotts towards the Leaky Cauldron. 'Now it's just anyone's guess how long they're going to keep me out of Gringotts for.'

'To be fair, you did break in, steal a dragon, and destroy several whole vaults,' Hermione said.

'So did you, what's your point?'

'My point,' Hermione said, shaking her head, 'Is that goblins have enough reasons already to hate humans, and you breaking in two weeks ago and trashing the entire place doesn't exactly elevate you in their eyes.'

'We didn't break in to steal, though,' Harry replied defensively. 'We were after the Horcruxes.'

'That doesn't matter in the goblins' eyes,' Hermione explained, a tad bit impatiently. 'They've been invaded and attacked time and time again by wizards. When we charged in there, they automatically assumed that we were there to do them harm. The thought that we may have had other intentions probably didn't even cross their minds.'

Harry sighed. 'I suppose you're right…it'll be a real pain, though, if they're determined to keep me out for the rest of my life…'

'I'm sure it'll be smoothed over eventually,' Hermione said hopefully. 'Kingsley's already pushing several ordinances through that're supposed to directly outlaw the worst forms of goblin-wizard inequality. Maybe when the goblins find out that you're supportive of that…'

'I hope,' Harry murmured as they reached the Leaky Cauldron. 'Come on, why don't we go have a late lunch out in the muggle world somewhere. I'm tired of greasy fast-food and over-spiced curry.'

Hermione nodded gladly, and they entered the inn, crossing through as discreetly as they could, trying to avoid the gaze of 'admirers'. Harry pushed open the door and stepped out onto busy Charing Cross Road. Now that he was out in the muggle world, his great idea of getting lunch suddenly seemed not too great, for he had nearly no idea where to go.

'Uh…do you know a…uh…good place?' Harry asked sheepishly, feeling himself blush.

Hermione nibbled on her lower lip. 'I…uh…well, there's a decent sushi place around here, if I remember correctly.'

'A _what_ place?'

Hermione's face turned dark. 'I'm sorry…I forgot…those terrible relatives of yours…I hope Lily did something about – '

'She said she did,' Harry cut her off, not exactly wanting to pursue that subject yet again. 'What's sushi?'

'It's…it's a Japanese dish,' Hermione answered, thankfully catching on to Harry's unspoken desire to change the topic. 'It's fish…or vegetables…wrapped in rice. It's quite good. I'm rather partial to it.'

Harry smiled at her. 'If you think it's quite good, then I'm sure I'll like it.'

Hermione blushed a little, but looked pleased with herself. She started off down the road and after several minutes of walking, stepped into a large, modern looking restaurant.

'Two please,' she told the host waiting at the door. He led them to a small, cosy booth far away from the door. On one side of the booth was a conveyor belt, on top of which freshly prepared dishes moved slowly and enticingly.

'Are we supposed to eat those?' Harry asked, before immediately wanting to slap himself for his stupid question.

'Yes, we are,' Hermione replied brightly. 'Just grab whatever you'd like and enjoy.'

'Uh…what am I supposed to like?'

'Oh…uh…I mean…that's up to you.'

Harry sighed. 'I've never had sushi before, Hermione.'

Hermione bit back what must have been a comment on the Dursleys. 'I'll pick for you, then,' she said, sounding saddened and perhaps a little angry. 'I mean, I'm not a sushi connoisseur or anything…'

'You're probably one to me,' Harry jested.

Hermione blushed vividly at Harry's comment. 'Uh…well…I'll try my best,' she stammered. 'But…it might not be good.'

Any need for Hermione to doubt herself was quickly shattered in Harry's mind when he bit into the first 'roll' – as she called them – that she picked out. It was an entirely unfamiliar sort of flavour. The rice was sticky and oddly flavourful, and the fish wrapped inside, though seemingly plain at first, had a subtle but pleasant taste to it.

'Like it?' Hermione asked timidly.

'Love it,' Harry said with a wide smile. Immediately, that smile was reflected on Hermione's face. She glowed almost golden, a beautiful look that had been such a rarity through almost the entire previous year.

'I'm glad you like it,' Hermione chirped happily, squeezing Harry's hand. 'This _is_ a pretty good change from overcooked fish and chips, isn't it?'

'Just wait until we get to Australia,' Harry said cheerfully between bites. 'We'll be drinking out of coconuts and eating ice cream all day.'

Hermione laughed. 'You've been watching too many movies, Harry.'

'Not my fault,' Harry replied with a shrug. 'You're the one showing them to me.'

Hermione snorted, but then, her expression darkened and she sighed. 'We'll have to find Mum and Dad first, though…'

Harry covered her hand with his. 'I'm sure we will,' he assured. 'We already have a lead on exactly where they're living. Once we find them…us, your parents… _my parents_...we'll all be together again.' Harry stared out into space. 'It's still so unbelievable…'

'Isn't it?' Hermione whispered. They locked eyes, and Harry saw that her brown irises held a deep, powerful…something. It suddenly made him feel like he was eleven again, looking into the Mirror of Erised and looking right at his heart's greatest desire.

And now it was all so close to coming true…

'It feels like so long ago,' Harry confessed. 'But it's barely been twenty-four hours. So much has happened… It feels like a long dream…like I'm going to wake up and suddenly find out that I'm in the tent again…'

Hermione smiled shyly. 'I'll still be there if that were true.'

'You…you would. And…'

 _And that would be enough for me_ , Harry finished in his head.

They finished their lunch in comfortable silence. There was no real need to talk. To Harry, just her presence alone was good enough for him. There was not going to be another day in his life, he pledged, that he was going feel unthankful for Hermione being in his life. Where would he be, after all, if it had not been for everything that she had done for him?

'What do we do now?' Harry asked when he could not eat any more, suppressing a sated burp.

'We'll need to get you, your parents, and Sirius all passports,' Hermione said, shifting back into 'planning mode'. 'That'll take a few days…then we'll need to visit the travel agent's…buy aeroplane tickets and book a hotel room.' She ticked off fingers as she recited her to-do list. 'We'll have to plan where we want to go after we find them…oh, and we'll have to figure out _how_ we're going to find them.'

'I'll help you with anything,' Harry promised. 'How long do you think it'll be until we leave?'

'A week, maybe?' Hermione answered contemplatively. 'It might actually be good for us, though. Don't you think we should maybe…visit the Weasleys? We have been neglecting them a little, haven't we?'

Harry nodded guiltily. They had not spoken to Ron or any of the other Weasleys almost since the end of the war. They were grieving, Harry rationalised, but a part of him was beginning to fell that maybe the two of them had been neglecting them. On the other hand, he did not really feel any desire, any longing to see them. Seeing them almost seemed like…a duty.

'Let's just go tomorrow. It's Sunday, and everyone should be home,' he suggested. 'We'll stop by quickly and just check on them. Unless you want to stay…'

Hermione shook her head. 'No, not really. Let's just go in the afternoon…say hello…and spend the rest of the day just by ourselves. I…I feel more comfortable with that.'

Harry squeezed her hand gently, a gesture that she returned. 'I feel more comfortable with that, too.'


	5. Irreversibly Changed

Harry woke in the middle of the night to a scream of terror. His eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, fumbling for his glasses. He felt them on the nightstand and pressed them onto his face before looking over, panicked, at Hermione's side of the bed.

'Please, please no,' Hermione was crying in her sleep. 'Please no…he's not dead…he can't be…'

Harry put a firm hand on Hermione's side and shook her, trying to wake her. 'Hermione, you're okay. I'm okay,' he whispered in her ear. 'You're not…wherever you are…you're at home…you're safe…'

Hermione's eyelids flew apart. 'Harry…you can't be dead,' she sobbed. 'No…no….'

'I'm not dead,' Harry said gently, squeezing her arm and flipping her over. The front and back of her shirt were both soaked in sweat. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, and her face was deathly pale.

'You…' Suddenly, Hermione attacked him with a bone-crushing hug. 'You're…I thought…I dreamed…I'm sorry, Harry…I…'

Harry massaged her back, hugging her back as tightly as he could. 'Never say sorry,' he breathed. 'I'm here for you…anytime…'

' _We're_ here for each other,' Hermione corrected feebly but firmly, burying her head into Harry's shoulder.

Harry nodded and held her tightly as her trembling died down. Harry could feel the sweat from her drenched nightshirt soak into his own. Hermione continued to whimper and tremble at odd intervals, and each time, Harry would respond with a gentle squeeze.

Hermione pulled back. There were tears glistening in her eyes. Her complexion was still colourless. She put a hand on Harry's chest, and he felt oddly conscious of the contact. 'I got your clothes wet,' she said in a tiny voice and with a breathy chuckle.

Harry shrugged. 'It's fine.'

'I'm sorry I woke you up,' Hermione said sheepishly.

'You never have to apologise,' Harry replied. 'It's what I'm here for.'

' _We're_ here for.'

'We're here for,' Harry repeated. He gave Hermione a once-over. 'You really should change out of that shirt. You'll get cold.'

Hermione sighed. 'What's the time?' she asked.

Harry peered over at the clock on the nightstand. 'Four fifty-one.'

'Should I even go back to sleep?'

'Yes,' Harry said firmly in the sort of voice that Hermione would more often use on him. 'You need your rest. We'll be visiting the Weasleys later, remember? And getting passports, and…well, we've got a lot to do.'

Hermione nodded, giving a small yawn. She got up out of bed and walked over to her wardrobe, picking a nightshirt at random and roughly tugging it off the hanger. She fumbled with her shirt and threw it off. Suddenly, Harry was greeted by a view of her bare back. He averted his eyes reflexively, realising too late that he had been watching Hermione change. His face burned in awkwardness.

'Harry, what's wrong?' came Hermione's voice a minute later.

Harry flipped around. She was fully clothed again and looking down at him with a confused expression.

'N-Nothing,' Harry replied. 'You're changed?'

Hermione nodded. She laid down on the bed next to Harry. Without needing to think, for they had done this so many times before, he rolled over onto his side and draped an arm over her waist, pulling her tightly to him.

Hermione gave a small sigh of relief. 'Good night, Harry.'

Harry closed his eyes. 'Good night, Hermione.'

The next thing Harry knew, sunlight was filtering through his eyelids. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked off the grogginess of sleep. When his vision came into focus, he found himself staring into a mass of brown hair. He took a deep breath. It smelled faintly of citrus. Hermione was stealing his shampoo again.

'You're awake, Harry?' Hermione breathed.

'I am,' Harry replied. 'Good morning.'

'Looks like a good morning,' Hermione sighed comfortably. She shifted a little in Harry's arms. They had not changed positions since they had fallen back asleep, it seemed. 'Is it just me, or do you also want to keep lying here and never get up?'

Harry chuckled. 'It's definitely not just you. What's the time?'

'The clock's on your side of the bed.'

Harry, with some reluctance, removed his arm from around Hermione's waist and rolled over to glance at the time. 'It's almost ten,' he said. 'We…maybe we should get up.'

'I don't want to get up,' Hermione moaned.

'We told Missus Weasley we'll be there for lunch,' Harry said. Truth be told, he, too, really wanted to just stay in bed for the rest of the day, _maybe_ get up in the afternoon just so that they could make the long trek down to the sofa and put on a movie. But promises were promises.

Hermione sighed. 'I know it's terrible, but…'

'But you'd rather stay here,' Harry finished.

Hermione gave a small, guilty nod. 'I know it's selfish…'

Harry rolled over, took her hand beneath the covers, and squeezed it. 'It's not selfish,' he whispered, looking deeply into her eyes. 'It's just…how things are.'

Hermione squeezed his hand back gently, giving a tiny sigh. 'I guess then we'd better get out of bed.'

Harry reluctantly pulled back the covers and sat up, yawning as he slid into his slippers. He was still tired. They had spent all of yesterday planning, and it had been almost two in the morning when they had finally gone to sleep. Feeling like a sleepwalker, Harry dragged himself to the bathroom and took out his toothbrush. Hermione entered a second later. In the better light of the bathroom, Harry could see bags under her eyes and her hair sticking on end.

'Move over,' she said, a little waspishly, nudging Harry to the left so she could access her side of the sink. She grabbed her own toothbrush and the two of them began brushing in tandem. The circles they made with their brushes almost seemed to sync up. Harry found it hypnotising, though that may also have been caused by the pretty rosy tinge on Hermione's cheeks…

'You've been brushing for four whole minutes,' Hermione said, jerking Harry out of his trance. 'Are you trying to brush your teeth off?'

Harry's toothbrush slid out of his hand and landed with a clatter in the washbasin. Hermione gave a snort and started to laugh at his misfortune. Feeling like an idiot, he spit out his toothpaste, getting a little on the tap. He cleaned it off before cupping some water and rinsing out his mouth.

'You've got a bit on your face,' Hermione pointed out when Harry looked back up at her with a smile that he hoped would salvage his dignity. No such luck, it seemed. She pointed at her right cheek. 'Around there.'

Harry wet his hands and rubbed that side of the face, washing off the toothpaste. 'How do I look?'

'As good as ever,' Hermione replied with a grin.

Harry felt his face heat up. 'I…I mean the toothpaste.'

'Oh, that? It's gone.'

'That's…good,' Harry replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Hermione chuckled a little awkwardly. 'I get the shower first,' she suddenly declared.

'That's not fair!' Harry protested. 'You didn't even give me a chance to claim first!'

'You could've claimed first from the moment you woke up,' Hermione argued, manoeuvring Harry towards the door. 'But you didn't, so you lost.'

'Off with you, Harry,' she added with a bright smile that made Harry unable to deny her. 'Don't complain.'

Hermione closed the door behind herself and Harry returned to the bedroom to sat down on the bed. He had some time before Hermione would come out of the shower, so he grabbed the notebook that Hermione had been writing in the previous night and flipped it open, curious as to the results of what she had been working on.

Harry saw that she had taken the photographs of Australia that she had found in the magazines and guidebooks lying around the house and pasted them onto the pages. Next to each, she had written a small caption and a number, perhaps meant to rank based on how much the sites interested her. There were images of golden beaches, of eerie desert landscapes, of a building that Harry could only describe as having overlapping white seashells for a roof. Now that Harry saw these beautiful sights – even just in pictures – he could understand and even begin to feel some of Hermione's excitement that she had felt last night.

Hermione had been almost childlike as she had looked through the magazines, putting this together. It was, if Harry were to be frank with himself, rather adorable to watch. For just a few hours, she had acted like the carefree teenager that she should have been. Could have been, if it had not been for him…

'Shite! Harry!'

Harry nearly dropped the notebook in surprise. Hermione was standing there in the room, a look of surprise on her face. She was wrapped in a towel which clung tightly around her figure. Her hair was wet and stuck to her face in places. Despite her obvious shock, Harry could not help but feel that she looked almost angelic.

That made Harry realise that he had, in fact, been shamelessly ogling Hermione. 'I-I'm sorry,' he stammered. 'I didn't mean. S-Sorry…I should've – '

'I…I didn't ex-expect you to be in here,' Hermione interrupted in a tiny voice, her cheeks burning scarlet.

'I was…I was looking at your notebook,' Harry said, trying to explain the situation. 'I…I guess I didn't hear the door open and y-you walk in…'

Hermione gave a tiny shake of her head. 'It's f-fine,' she squeaked. 'I…well, you can go take your shower now.'

Harry got up off the bed with gusto, wanting nothing less than to escape his awkward predicament. Only when he stood up did he realise that his body had responded in a rather inappropriate way. 'I…I'll go shower, then, er…now,' he announced in a tiny, strained voice, trying to rearrange his clothes and hoping that Hermione would not notice.

If Hermione had realised Harry's plight, she did not show it as Harry grabbed his change of clothes as fast as humanly possible and almost dashed into the bathroom. He wrenched the shower knob to cold and jumped beneath the freezing stream. He felt his response fade as the cold water shocked his body. Harry let the freezing water pound his skin for several more seconds, punishing himself for his impure thoughts towards Hermione.

His mother's voice suddenly replayed in his head. ' _You're just friends?_ ' she had asked. Harry had detected the disappointment imbued in it. But what did his mother expect they were? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Sirius might jest about them sleeping together – well, in that sense, anyway – but they _were_ just extraordinarily close friends. Extraordinarily close friends that did things for one another that other friends would not.

Right?

Harry turned off the shower, his silent musings having given him more doubts and uncertainties than he had bargained for. His mother must have been mistaken, he decided on the spot, just like everyone else had been about him and Hermione.

But a sudden image appeared in his mind. He was kissing Hermione, who just happened to be dressed in the towel that he had just seen her in. Her warm, tender lips were on his…then, their lips parted, and it turned into a snog…he imagined his hands roaming…he reached up and pulled the towel from her body…

Harry threatened himself with another cold shower for thinking these thoughts. He tugged on his clothes, determined to clear his mind of such fantasies. Hermione did not need someone to lust over her, he recognised. She needed a friend to be with her, comfort her…something Harry was already doing a miserable job at as it was.

He opened the bathroom door and stepped out, dumping his worn clothes on top of a large pile out in the hallway to wash later. He descended the stairs and found Hermione in the dining room, having a breakfast of an apple and a pain au chocolat. When she saw Harry approach, she gave him a bright smile that made his stomach squirm a little before reaching into the breadbasket and pulling out a croissant.

'Eat a little,' Hermione said, holding out the pastry. The incident in the bedroom earlier seemed to be all but forgotten to her.

'Aren't we supposed to be going to the Weasleys' for lunch?' Harry asked, eyeing the pastry and trying to act nonchalantly.

'You shouldn't skip breakfast,' Hermione lectured. 'And besides, we won't be going for almost another hour. You might get hungry.'

Harry nodded, giving her a smile, genuinely appreciating her thoughtfulness. Briefly, his mind went back to another morning, long ago, when she had brought him a stack of toast and offered to take a walk with him around the lake…it had been just him and her then, two friendless loners, isolated from everything and everyone else…almost like now.

He nibbled on the croissant, looking mindlessly out of the window. The sky was grey and overcast, feeling more like an early winter morning day than what should have been midsummer. He supposed it was going to rain soon, and he found that he would not be at all disappointed if it did. It would be less time that he would have to spend in the loud and boisterous Burrow, and conversely more time he could pass here, in peace and quiet, under a blanket, Hermione's warmth making the bitter coldness in his heart and veins feel just a little more bearable.

Harry cleaned up the dishes, and soon after, it was time for them to leave. Hermione suggested that they change to something more subdued than jeans and a shirt, so Harry put on dark trousers and a black coat. He looked in the mirror and felt a coldness descend over himself as he saw his depressing appearance. It was not quite like going to a funeral, but it felt uncomfortably close.

He waited for Hermione downstairs. She came down the stairs a few minutes later, dressed in much the same way as Harry was. He gave her a half-hearted smile before he took her hand and disapparated for the Burrow.

Harry smelled it first. Mrs Weasley's cooking was distinctive even from a distance away. It did not feel as homely as it used to, however. Harry could not help but feel that he was intruding upon something foreign, something that was not his.

They walked together up to the gate to the Burrow's grounds. Harry stopped in front of it and had to take a deep breath before pushing it open. He slowly entered the charmingly wild garden. Hermione followed him, taking his hand and gripping it tightly. She, too, must have felt strangely out-of-place here.

The front door swung open and out stepped Mrs Weasley. She smiled when she saw Harry and Hermione, but her smile looked strained, like there was something forced about it. Harry tried to smile back, but found that his smile, too, felt more like acting than genuine.

'Good morning, Missus Weasley,' Harry said, trying but not quite managing to keep the stiffness out of his voice.

Mrs Weasley's smile brightened a little, but Harry could see that the tension was still etched into the lines of her face. 'Hello, Harry. Hello, Hermione. Come on in.'

Mrs Weasley turned back into the house, Harry and Hermione following her. Hermione let go of Harry's hand as they entered, and Harry could not help but feel a little disappointed at the loss of contact.

The usual dins of the Burrow were in full force. There was not much Harry could hear over the sounds of the pots and the pans in the kitchen, over the various magical clocks and chimes hanging around the house. That made him feel more than a little on edge. He knew that it was irrational, but he kept his hand on the wand in his pocket, prepared, just in case some attacker took advantage of the noise to sneak up on them undetected…

'How are you?' Mrs Weasley asked when they walked into the sitting room. Her face took on a neutral, flat expression. 'I…I heard the news.'

'I…uh…I don't know. I can't describe the feeling,' Harry murmured guiltily. He felt an urge to apologise to her for…everything. For all the members of her family that had gotten hurt because of him. For not bringing back Fred. He was not complaining that his parents and Sirius gotten another chance at life – they more than deserved that – but it felt so terrible at the same time that fate had chosen to reward the least deserving person it possibly could.

'I'm sure it must be shocking,' Mrs Weasley said hollowly.

'I…yeah, it is…' Harry breathed. 'How are you?' he asked, not wanting to further Mrs Weasley's discomfort by discussing the subject anymore.

Mrs Weasley's neutral expression broke, and her face turned into a death mask of misery. 'We are…going on.'

'I'm…I'm sorry,' Harry choked out. 'I…I wish I could've…could've…you know…'

'Brought him back?' Mrs Weasley finished in a tiny voice.

Harry nodded. 'I'm sorry…I…I…I would've brought F-Fred back if I had a choice. But I didn't. Magic…magic chose for me.'

Hermione wrapped an arm around Harry's waist as he began to lose control of his emotions. He swallowed hard. He was not at home, not alone but for Hermione. He had no right to cry here. He had no right to wallow in his own sorrows when he was, in fact, the fortunate one.

Suddenly, without warning, Mrs Weasley scooped Harry up in a bone-crushing hug. 'Th-There's no need to be sorry, Harry,' she sobbed. 'You should be h-happy.' She pulled back, and Harry could see tears in her eyes. 'Y-You have your parents again. You have Sirius again. You don't have to be sorry.'

'I wish I could've…could've…'

'It wasn't your choice,' Mrs Weasley gushed, squeezing Harry again. 'But even if it were…I wouldn't…would never have blamed you f-for…for your ch-choice…'

Mrs Weasley released Harry. 'R-Ron is u-upstairs, he will w-want to see…see you,' she said, barely holding back a torrent of tears. Hermione took Harry by the elbow and tugged him out of the kitchen. The moment they were out the door, Harry heard Mrs Weasley's pained and sorrow-filled sobs even over the racket of the kitchen.

Harry and Hermione climbed the stairs slowly. It had been almost a year since they had last been here. So much had changed since then, but the house seemed to stubbornly remain the same. The slightly worn railings looked nearly identical. The furnishings on the walls unmoved. The third-floor landing that creaked still creaked.

They climbed to the fifth floor and stopped in front of Ron's bedroom door. Harry and Hermione shared a look. They had not seen Ron since that day at Hogwarts, had not spoken to him for longer. How would he react to them showing up? It was a question that neither of them seemed to be able to answer. Harry mustered his courage and knocked on the door.

It was a few seconds before the door opened. On the other side stood Ron, still in his pyjamas. His face looked like he had not slept well in days. His hair was a mess and sticking up in places. His expression was one of fatigue and hopelessness.

'Hello,' Hermione said tentatively, trying to break the ice.

'Hello,' Ron replied mechanically. 'Come inside.'

Harry and Hermione stepped into the bedroom, and Hermione closed the door behind her. The rest of the house may have looked almost identical to how it had looked a year ago, but Ron's room could not have been more different. The bright orange Chudley Cannons posters were all gone from the walls, having been torn down and dumped unceremoniously in a corner. The room looked spartan. The only personal effect that remained was a single framed picture of the Weasleys in Egypt, taken from a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ long ago.

Harry and Hermione sat down together on the floor on one side of the room as Ron stalked over and plopped down on his unmade bed. They looked awkwardly at each other for a long while. Harry did not know what to say. So much had happened since the last time they had spoken. Were they even the same people anymore?

'Everything fine?' Ron asked, kicking up his feet.

Harry shrugged. 'Getting by. And you?'

'Getting by,' Ron echoed monotonously.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room again. Harry looked at Ron unsurely, and he stared back with the same feeling marked on his face.

'So, Harry, I've heard,' Ron finally said, his voice empty and unfeeling.

'You and everybody else,' Harry muttered depressingly.

Ron's eyes narrowed. 'You act like that's a bad thing. Getting your family back.'

'I never said such a thing,' Harry replied, feeling the sting in Ron's words and trying not to be hurt by it. 'I…I don't even know _what_ to feel. They haven't been in my life for seventeen years. They're almost like complete strangers to me…strangers that know me.'

'What I would give…'

'I wish I could have,' Harry said, feeling a sense of self-hatred well up again. 'I wish I could've…you know…brought him back…'

'Couldn't you have?' Ron asked, sounding accusatory. Whether intended or not, Harry did not know.

'I couldn't have.'

Ron's eyes narrowed again. 'Why not?' he demanded.

'Remember the day we saw you at Hogwarts?' Hermione said quietly, taking over.

'And you two went on your way with just a "Good morning"?' Ron murmured bitterly.

'Y-Yes, that day,' Hermione replied, sounding a little scared that Ron would suddenly lose it. The explosion, though, never came, and Ron simply shrugged, giving a loud sigh and collapsing limply again.

'And?'

'And…that was the day we went to retrieve the Resurrection Stone,' Hermione continued. 'We…we went to the Ministry to throw it through the Veil… I had researched that that would cast them into complete non-existence…we planned on just getting rid of the Stone and the Wand, but…'

'The Cloak,' Harry finished. 'The Cloak flew after its brothers all on its own…and then…and then something happened. We had no control over any – '

'Your parents and Sirius came out,' Ron interrupted curtly.

Harry nodded, and they descended back into an awkward silence. Harry rationally knew that the weeks since the war had changed things, but only now did he really feel it. Their banter used to be so easy, but now, it was almost uncomfortable to be alone in the same room as Ron. Ron seemed to be feeling the same as he laid back down on the bed and cupped his face in his hands.

Many minutes passed before there was a knock on the door. Ron called for whoever it was on the other side to come in. Harry hoped that it was Mrs Weasley, telling them that lunch was ready. Anything to get away from the discomfort of the situation would have been welcome.

Instead, when the door opened, Harry saw that it was Ginny on the other side. His heart sank. He had been dreading talking to her since the battle had ended, dreading the ' _what are we_ ' conversation that they would no doubt have to have in the aftermath. He did not want to go back to what they were before the war – if there really was anything there at all – but he did not want to hurt her, antagonise her. She was still his friend, despite all that.

'I'll go see if Mum needs help…I'll be gone while you do…whatever,' Ron grumbled, getting up from his bed and stalking towards the door.

'Hello, Harry,' Ginny said when Ron had left, attempting to sound cheerful. 'It's been a while.'

Hermione moved to get up, perhaps to leave the room after Ron, but Harry grabbed her hand, stopping her. She shot him a questioning look, to which Harry replied with a small shake of his head. Hermione swallowed, but stayed sitting right where she was next to him.

'Hello, Ginny,' Harry said tiredly, a blank expression on his face.

Ginny looked a little miffed by the cool reception, but she tried to smile nonetheless. 'How are you?' she asked. 'I…I heard…'

'I'm…I'm fine,' Harry gave the simple, automatic answer. He did not feel any desire to open himself even more. He did not feel safe confiding in Ginny. It almost felt like they had gone back in time, to the days when they could barely talk to one another. Ginny may have been genuine in trying to rekindle their relationship, but truthfully, past snogging, did they really have much of a relationship at all?

'Oh…okay,' Ginny said. 'I…I…uh…I guess you don't really want to talk right now…' She shot Harry a meaningful look. 'If you…if you'd ever like to talk…I'm here.'

'Yeah…thanks,' Harry muttered. Ginny gave him one last hopeful smile – one which Harry did not return – and left, closing the door behind her. Harry stared at the closed door for a long while, grappling with his thoughts and feelings, only to find that he, to his own surprise, had none.

'She's trying her best,' Hermione whispered.

Harry turned to her and sighed. 'I know…but…it's just…I can't feel anything for her,' he breathed. 'Even if I try to…and I don't particularly _want_ to try to.'

Hermione swallowed. 'You shouldn't force yourself to love someone…it should…it should come…naturally.'

There was something about Hermione saying that, which Harry found especially heart-warming, though he could not seem to place it. He slid a hand over and squeezed Hermione's thigh. She looked at him tenderly with a small smile on her face. Harry found his eyes wandering to her lips…

He forced his gaze back on her eyes before any more impure thoughts came into his mind. 'I don't think I ever…ever really loved her,' he said quietly.

'You should tell her,' Hermione advised. 'Just tell her…or you'll leave her waiting…expecting…'

Harry sighed. 'I…she's dealing with so much…they're all dealing with so much… And she clearly wants…wants to…you know,' he muttered. 'I don't want to pile more onto her when she's already going through all this…'

'The sooner you tell her, the sooner she can move on,' Hermione replied. 'The sooner you can move on,' she added, blushing slightly.

Harry suddenly found himself laughing cynically. 'Me? Moving on? Who would want me?' he scoffed. 'Look at me, Hermione. I'm…I'm damaged. Destroyed. Who would want someone like that when there are so many people out there who're whole, haven't been forced through all…all this…'

He felt tears come to his eyes as his voice cut off. Hermione leaned forward and wrapped her arms gently around his neck, rubbing his back in tiny circles. Harry heard her whisper Locking and _Muffliato_ Charms, and that forced the tap open. He buried his face into her shoulder and cried, letting all the tears that he had forced back earlier come out.

'Harry,' Hermione whispered his name when Harry's sobs began to die down. He looked up and stared into her eyes, feeling a sort of warmth flow through him as he held her gaze.

'Harry, listen to me,' she said quietly but firmly. 'You are not damaged. You certainly aren't destroyed, and you…you…' Her cheeks turned slightly pink, but Harry interrupted her before she could continue.

'Of course I'm damaged,' he said with a snort. 'Just look at me. My parents miraculously reappeared after sixteen years and they're strangers to me. I'm so weak I can't even stop himself crying in front of – '

'That's not weak,' Hermione asserted. 'You're _strong_ to have gone through so much and…and still be _you_ , Harry. Don't ever think otherwise.'

'You aren't breaking down at every turn,' Harry refuted. He was not strong. Hermione was just trying to be kind, just consoling him. He knew the truth.

'But I haven't gone through everything you have,' Hermione argued. 'If I had…I would be taking it far worse than you are, Harry. I know it. _You. Are. Strong._ Don't believe for a minute otherwise.'

Harry nodded. The raging self-hatred did not die, but Hermione's emphatic words seemed to at least have quelled it somewhat. He looked up at her and tried to smile a small smile. Hermione returned the smile and leaned her head against Harry's shoulder, snaking an arm around his waist. Harry let her snuggle into her side, basking in her warmth and the miraculous fact that, somehow, despite all the reasons why she should not be, she _was_ still there with him.

Only when Mrs Weasley called that lunch was ready, nearly half an hour later, did they move at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enormous thank-you's to maschl and Aani , without whose help this chapter would have been nowhere near as well-edited and polished.


	6. Raw Wounds

Harry and Hermione spent the rest of the week planning, and no matter how much the two of them had wanted to dash off as soon as possible, they found that they needed the time. It ended up being far more involved than Harry had anticipated. Hermione had to get him, James, Lily, and Sirius passports, which had involved Confunding a hapless muggle clerk to enter their names into the government database. Then, they had needed to get plane tickets, book hotels, and plan out their itinerary.

Finally, the long-anticipated Friday came. Hermione had woken up at six in the morning and was finished packing before noon. Harry was a little slower, not starting until three in the afternoon, much to Hermione's anxiety.

'Do you have everything you need packed?' Hermione asked.

Harry checked his watch. It was half-past-six. They were due to meet his parents and Sirius at Grimmauld Place in five minutes. 'You've asked this question at least a hundred times,' he grumbled.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him. 'And every time, I remind you of something that you haven't packed.'

Harry sighed. 'What else? I have my changes of clothes, my wand, my boarding pass, my toothbrush, all the books you couldn't fit into your bag – '

'Your passport?'

Harry snatched the newly acquired booklet off the tea table and shoved it into the top compartment of his charmed backpack. 'Got that too.'

'Your wallet?'

Harry grabbed his wallet off the table and jammed it into his pocket, feeling supremely embarrassed. He avoided looking in Hermione's direction, for he was sure that she bore a smug expression on her face.

'What would you ever do without me, Harry?' Hermione asked, shaking her head.

'No idea,' Harry replied. 'Don't leave me, Hermione.'

Hermione blushed but looked quite glad. 'Never thought about it. Besides, how could I ever leave, knowing that you'd never survive the world on your own?'

It was now Harry's turn to blush. He did not meet Hermione's gaze and pretended to concentrate on gathering the rest of his things, something that he failed miserably at, for thanks to Hermione's constant reminding, he found that he did not have anything else to pack.

'Got everything?' Hermione asked again, stuffing her beaded bag into her pocket.

'If you can't think of anything else,' Harry said, shouldering his backpack.

'No, I think that's everything,' Hermione replied, much to Harry's relief. She walked over to the Floo and threw a pinch of powder into the fire. 'Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!'

The fire whooshed green and she stepped through, Harry following in after her. He stepped out a dizzying second later into the dark Grimmauld Place kitchen.

Harry heard it first, the sound of hollow sobs and incomprehensible mutters. Then, he saw it. Sirius was sitting on the sofa, his clothes and hair a mess. He was desperately clutching a bottle of Firewhiskey in his hands. James and Lily were standing next to him, James trying to wrestle the bottle away from him and Lily trying her best to calm him down.

'What's going on?' Hermione squeaked, glued to the spot in her shock.

Lily stood up and looked at them grimly. She gestured for them out into the corridor, away from the men. Harry and Hermione followed her. Harry felt a sense of dread settle over him. Had something terrible happened to Sirius? Had he been hurt? Had he been attacked?

'What happened?' Harry demanded in a frantic whisper the moment they were outside.

'He went in for his Auror evaluation today,' Lily said, her voice strained. 'He scored well on all the physical and magical tests, but when they got to the mental evaluation…'

Even in the dimly lit corridor, Harry could see his mother's face darken. 'First, they placed him in a small, dark room and told him that he had to find a way to escape. He managed to do it in twenty minutes, but James said that he came out really shaken,' she whispered. 'Then, he had to work out a puzzle when there were loud explosions and bright flashes of light going off all around him. That messed him up even more.'

Lily gulped. 'And then…then, it was the dementor.'

' _What?_ ' Hermione suddenly shrieked. 'How could they – '

'Keep your voice down, please,' Lily interrupted, her voice more severe than Harry had ever heard from her. 'It's the standard examination procedure. They want to see if you can keep your head and block out mind-altering magic. But…when Sirius faced the dementor…'

Lily did not finish, but she did not need to. Harry thought that he already knew what happened. The dementor, on top of everything else, must have triggered in him flashbacks of Azkaban. Sirius had never spoken about what it was like inside the prison, but if his appearance the first time Harry had met him was anything to go by, his memories of the place must have been truly ghastly.

'James brought him back,' Lily continued. 'He sat him down on the sofa and left for a few minutes to go to the toilet. By the time he came back, Sirius already had a bottle Firewhiskey in his hands and was a third of the way in. The alcohol just made everything worse…'

'Is…is there anything we could do to help?' Hermione asked, sounding desperate. 'Or…could we take him to St Mungo's?'

'They'll just give him a vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion and send him on his way,' Lily said acidly. 'It'll do more harm than good in the long run. The wizarding world doesn't understand this kind of thing at all – mental illness, PTSD, any of it. Even the healers believe that magic alone can fix everything…when it obviously cannot.'

Sirius gave another loud howl, and Lily charged back into the room, Harry and Hermione on her heels. Harry saw the cause of the sudden outburst – James had managed to wrench the bottle out of Sirius's hands, and he was desperately trying to get it back.

'I – _no!_ ' Sirius yelled, trying to reach for the Firewhiskey. 'You betrayed them, you filthy rat! You turned them in to – _hic_ – in to Voldemort!'

'Padfoot, what you're seeing isn't real,' James said in vain, shaking Sirius. 'It's the Firewhiskey that's making you see things. And the dementor – '

At the word 'dementor', Sirius's face suddenly fell slack. His countenance, already pale from fright, bleached even more. He suddenly stopped struggling and slumped limply back onto the sofa, unmoving. Harry dashed around to stand next to James, and what he saw shocked him. Sirius's eyes were open and unfocused. His pupils had grown so wide that his irises had practically disappeared.

James looked up at Lily with a horrified expression. 'What…what do we do, Lily?' he breathed. His face, like Sirius's, was rapidly losing colour.

Lily gave a tiny shake of her head, also at a loss for what to do. 'I think we'll _have_ to take him to St Mungo's,' she said in a tiny voice. 'They…all they'll do is knock him out…but…but that might be the only thing we can do now…'

James nodded decisively and stood, throwing a pinch of Floo Powder into the fireplace. 'St Mungo's Hospital!' he cried.

He walked back over to the sofa and picked up Sirius's limp form. 'Stay here,' he ordered everyone else. 'I'll be back as soon as I can. Lily, search this house and get rid of every bottle of alcohol you find. Doesn't matter if it's Firewhiskey, Butterbeer, or muggle stuff. Get rid of it all.'

With that, James stepped through the flames. The moment he disappeared. Lily turned to Harry and Hermione with a serious expression on her face.

'You heard James,' she said. 'Search this place. I'll take the kitchen. You two look through the upper floors.'

Harry and Hermione dashed up the stairs. Hermione threw open the door to the dining room and immediately began tearing through every cabinet that she could see. Harry went up to the first floor and searched through the Drawing Room. He did not expect to find anything here besides Dark Artefacts, and indeed, a search came up empty. That did not assure him, though, in the slightest.

By the banging noises still coming from the ground floor, Hermione was not yet done with her cleanse of the dining room, so Harry climbed the stairs, looking through the second and third floors, but finding nothing. Finally, he made his way up to the fourth-floor landing where Sirius's and Regulus's rooms were located. He walked up to Sirius's door, and feeling a little apologetic for intruding, he opened it and stepped inside the room.

Immediately, Harry's nose was hit by a pungent smell of alcohol. He saw Sirius's unmade bed and a tall pile of dirty laundry stacked at its foot. Evidently, Sirius must have forbidden even Kreacher from entering his room. Harry looked around, and it did not take him long to find the source of the odour. On the dresser were at least ten bottles of Ogden's Finest, five or six of them already empty.

Sirius had been alive for less than a week. Harry realised with a gasp that he must have drunk through at least a full bottle per day.

Harry brandished his wand and Vanished the bottles, one by one. A small part of him felt guilty for doing this without his godfather's permission, but the sight and sound of Sirius screaming, hallucinating and out of his mind, came back to him. It was better this way.

He opened the wardrobes and drawers, discovering two more unopened bottles. He promptly Vanished them, too, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. On a whim, he looked through Regulus's room, but found it 'clean'. Feeling grimly accomplished, he descended back down the stairs to find Hermione and his mother already waiting in the kitchen.

'Did you find anything?' was the first question Lily asked.

Harry nodded darkly. 'I found fifteen bottles in his room,' he recounted. 'Five of them were already empty.'

' _Shite_ ,' Lily swore loudly, taking Harry aback. 'I found four bottles here, and there was another bottle of muggle scotch in the dining room. He's been drinking himself half to death…and none of us knew about it…none of us stopped it…'

'He must've been drinking late at night,' Harry said. 'Most of the bottles were in his room.'

'And it would've been easy to disguise the smell of alcohol by magic,' Hermione added grimly. 'Don't blame yourself, Lily.'

Lily swallowed uncomfortably and shrugged, evidently not convinced. The three of them waited together in silence, all feeling too tense to speak as they waited for any news from James. The minute hand reached twelve. It was seven. They should have been at the airport already, but they still sat here unmoving, waiting with worry heavy in their hearts.

Finally, when it was nearly half-past-seven, the Floo roared to life again, and James stepped out. He was out of breath, his face was red, and the back of his shirt had visible sweat stains.

'What did they do?' Lily demanded, rising.

'They did exactly what you said they would, Lily,' James replied, panting and sounding irritated. 'Gave him a Dreamless Sleep Potion and called it a job done. They wanted to send him right back, but I forced them to keep him overnight, just in case anything happened.'

'Good thinking,' Lily said quietly.

James shrugged. 'It was just the logical thing to do.'

Lily nodded jerkily and poured herself a glass of water, downing it in one gulp. 'I…I guess…dinner?' she asked.

James raised an eyebrow. 'Dinner? Weren't you going to leave?'

'We were,' Hermione said. 'But now, with Sirius like this…I…I don't know…'

'You should go,' James replied firmly, looking Hermione directly in the eyes. 'Nothing should be more important to you than getting your family back.' He turned to Lily. 'And you…you should go with them.'

Lily looked shocked. 'But Sirius – '

'I can take care of Sirius,' James said, trying to sound confident. 'They might need you more than Sirius does, Lily. You got rid of all the alcohol?'

Lily nodded. 'We found…twenty or so bottles,' she whispered, stricken. 'We…we Vanished them all.'

'Merlin's saggy left bollock,' James breathed, his eyes suddenly losing focus in shock. He gathered himself a second later, however, and looked at Lily with a stoic expression.

'You three go, Lily,' he said. 'Don't let this stop you from what you need to do. Sirius…I'll manage. If anything at all happens, we have the new mirrors.'

'Are you sure?' Lily asked. 'We might not be able to get back in time if you need us. Or the mirrors might not work over such a long distance. Or maybe…a hundred different maybes could happen.'

James tried to smile but failed miserably. 'I'm sure. Go, Lily, Harry, Hermione.'

Lily nodded, and with a shaking hand, shouldered her backpack. She exchanged one last, long look with James. He nodded stiffly, and Lily relented, turning to Harry and Hermione with a resigned look on her face.

'Let's go,' she muttered. 'We'll apparate to King's Cross. It'll save us some time.'

James kissed Lily goodbye and briefly gave Harry and a pat on the back. Lily grabbed Harry's and Hermione's hands and they turned on the spot, reappearing a second later on the deserted Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters.

Lily gave them a once-over, presumably making sure that they were not splinched, before wordlessly leading them out through the enchanted gate onto Platform Nine. The scene here was nearly the polar opposite of the empty magical platform, with a veritable deluge of commuters, many wearing suits and ties, running this way and that. Lily pushed her way through, Harry and Hermione following close on her heels to avoid getting lost in the crowd, before descending down into the Underground station and boarding a train.

None of them spoke for a long while, absorbed in their own thoughts over the background symphony of the train's wheels screeching on the tracks. It was not until the Piccadilly Line had reached the suburbs and the train gradually emptied that Lily broke the silence for the first time.

'I should've stayed,' she whispered, her expression troubled and her voice hoarse. 'I shouldn't have left James alone to take care of Sirius.'

Harry and Hermione exchanged a furtive look, unsure of what to say in response. Harry felt torn between wanting to come, so that he could be with Hermione on this no doubt difficult and emotional journey, and his own guilt over leaving James and Sirius behind to fend for themselves.

'But…maybe he was right,' Lily added with a sigh. 'Maybe I am meant to be here, with you.'

They fell into an ominous silence again for the rest of the journey. Somewhere along the way, Hermione had taken Harry's hand – or maybe it was the other way around – and was gripping it tightly. Finally, the train reached its terminus, and the three of them stepped out into the airport. Hermione led them to the check-in counters and then through to the gates, where they sat down to wait.

'How long did you say it was going to take us to get there?' Harry asked when Lily left to call James on the mirrors, speaking more for the sake of speaking than anything else.

'Twelve hours to Tokyo,' Hermione said, her eyes glinting for a split second in excitement as she entered 'planning mode' before dulling again. 'Three hours there in the airport, then nine hours to Sydney, then another two hours to Hobart. It'll be…a lot.'

'And once we get there?' Harry followed up. He knew already what the answer was going to be, for Hermione had planned this with him down to the last detail, but anything to stave off the heavy silence was welcome.

'We'll have travelled for more than a day straight,' Hermione answered, playing along. 'So we'll sleep first. And then the next day, we'll try to get a phonebook or some sort of directory and see if we can find them. If not…we'll have to think of some other way.'

Hermione sounded somewhat frightful when she said the last bit, so Harry covered her hand with his and squeezed gently. 'I'm sure we'll find them, one way or another,' he whispered.

Hermione gave a small smile. They fell quiet again, but this time, it felt far more comfortable than before. It was as if some sort of ice had been broken, some sort of dark mood dispelled.

Lily returned just as the flight was beginning to board. 'James just called,' she whispered in Harry and Hermione's ears as they queued up, sounding clearly relieved. 'He says all's fine. Sirius is still asleep at St Mungo's. He'll go check on him again in the morning.'

Harry felt a sense of relief wash over him upon hearing that, and his guilt over leaving James and Sirius abated a little. The queue advanced, and Harry and Hermione were soon called up.

'Passport and boarding pass, please,' the gate agent said, sounding a little bored. Harry fumbled in his pockets, getting out the needed documents and passing them to her.

She looked carefully at the two passports, spending much more time on Harry's than she did Hermione's. Harry felt a sudden dread descend over him as she scrutinised his documents. Was there something wrong? Had the Confunded clerk not actually entered the correct data into the muggle databases? Was he going to be kicked out of the airport, maybe thrown in a muggle jail?

None of that happened, however. After a long minute, the woman looked up, surprising Harry with the smile on her face. 'A young couple!' she chirped happily. 'I remember when I used to be your age, travelling the world…ah…well, time passes too quickly, doesn't it?'

Harry felt his face burn. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Hermione, too, was blushing furiously. 'Uh…yes, it does,' Hermione squeaked, taking back her passport perhaps a little too aggressively.

The woman did not seem to notice, though. 'How wonderful,' she said, still beaming. 'Well, dears, do enjoy your holiday.'

It took Harry and Hermione both several seconds to recover. 'Yeah…uh…thanks,' Harry managed to mutter. Not wanting to spend another moment in the lady's uncomfortable presence, he took his passport from her and followed Hermione briskly down the jet bridge.

They boarded the aeroplane and settled into their seats, and Harry noticed that Hermione still had the remains of a blush on her cheeks. Inexplicably, Harry felt some strange awkwardness as they sat together in silence. The words of the gate agent replayed in Harry's ears. Did he and Hermione really look that much like a couple?

And was it just appearances, or was there something more going on?

'You two all right?' Lily suddenly asked, appearing out of nowhere, making Harry jump in surprise. 'You seem a little…uncomfortable.'

Harry blinked once at his mother. 'Yeah…uh…what's wrong?'

Lily raised an eyebrow. 'You were just acting… _awkward_ ,' she observed. 'I don't know, maybe it was just…never mind. Hermione, have you ever flown before?'

Hermione nodded, looking slightly glad at the change of subject. 'Several times…when I went on holiday with…with Mum and Dad,' she said quietly. 'But then…then, I stopped going with them because of everything that was going on. I…I even came back early from one because…because…'

Her face grew dark and she did not finish, but Harry knew exactly what she was speaking of. He remembered it like it were yesterday, how Hermione had charged into his room at Grimmauld Place, her face red and covered with snow, and got him to come out. It was some special quality of hers, Harry decided, that gave her the power to pull him back to reality when no one else could. Not even Ron, who could only best manage temporary distraction and relief and never quite _healing_.

'You'll have a chance to make up for lost opportunities,' Lily said gently. 'Many more chances in the future, actually.'

Hermione sighed. 'I hope…'

'You will,' Lily said quietly, patting Hermione on the shoulder. 'I know you will.'

* * *

Hermione looked up once again at the moving map. They were somewhere over Siberia now. Harry, despite his nervous anticipation earlier at being on a plane for the first time, had fallen asleep not an hour after dinner had been served. His head was now resting on her shoulder, his breathing deep, slow, and peaceful, and his glasses, which he had not bothered taking off before falling asleep, were adorably askew.

She could not fall asleep herself, though, no matter how hard she tried. The thought of seeing her parents again made her excited beyond measure, but now that they were so close, another feeling was also beginning to settle in – fear. What if her parents rejected her? Or were angry with what she had done? They had good reason to be, after all. Hermione could not even begin to imagine how she would feel if her children modified her memories.

Lily was sitting next to her, still awake and reading a book. 'What're you reading?' Hermione asked, partly out of curiosity and partly just for something to do, something to break the silence.

' _The Return of the King_ ,' Lily answered. 'I was reading the trilogy when we were hiding. I got through the first and the second books, but I never was able to finish it. I was only two chapters from the end when…well, you know…happened.'

Lily set her book down and looked at Hermione. 'You like to read, don't you?'

Hermione felt herself blush. 'Well…uh…yeah. How did you know?'

Lily shrugged. 'I get a feel from you like you're the type of person who reads a lot.'

Hermione chuckled darkly. 'I used to read more, before Hogwarts. And then…well…things began happening to Harry…and I was more focused on trying to…trying to keep him alive.'

'I've never said thank you,' Lily whispered, her eyes suddenly moist. 'For doing all you've done for him. I can see it in his eyes when he's with you. He always has this terrible, resigned look…but when he's around you, it's like he's alive again.'

'He does the same for me,' Hermione muttered. Where would she be without _him_? Well, that was easy to answer. She would be dead, clubbed over the head by a troll in her first year. 'I'm lucky to have him.'

Lily smiled. 'From what I can see, I think he knows that he's lucky to have you, too. Or rather, you're lucky to have each other.'

'I just try to do my best,' Hermione murmured self-consciously. 'There're people out there who can probably – '

'Your best is already far more than good enough,' Lily interrupted. 'And I don't doubt for a minute Harry thinks the same way. And as for other people out there…none of them will be the same as you for him, you know that, don't you?'

'And plus,' she continued. 'Do you think Harry would do this for anyone else? Travel halfway across the world to find their parents? I don't know if he would for Ron or for that Ginny girl you told me about. You're special to him, even if he doesn't consciously know it.'

Hermione sighed. Lily's words, however comforting she had intended for them to be, had just reminded her again of her parents, and her mind raced right back to her doubts. What if her parents hated her for what she had done? What if they did not want to see her again? Who would she have, then?

Well, she would have Harry, but if she was truly left alone and friendless in the world, how long would Harry be willing to put up with her? He needed to live his own life. No matter how selfless he was, he would not – could not – stay with her for the rest of his life. He was going to get a job, make new friends. Fall in love…

That thought gave Hermione a sinking feeling in her stomach. She envisioned herself sitting in the audience as Harry, stood up at the altar, married an anonymous woman. She tried to feel happy at the picture. She ought to feel happy at the picture. But try as she might, she could not. Somehow, she wanted to be up there, right where the bride was standing, but not as a bridesmaid…as the bride.

Did she want to live if she was relegated to second – again – in Harry's life? _Could she?_

'Is there something bothering you?' Lily asked. Hermione almost jumped in surprise. Her internal anguish must have shown on her face, she realised. She cautiously schooled her features before turning to Lily.

'Is it about your parents?' she breathed, denying Hermione a chance to brush it off with an ' _Everything's fine_ '.

'I…I guess,' Hermione replied in a tiny voice, somehow finding herself unable to lie to Lily. A small part of her blindly hoped that she, as a mother herself, would be able to tell her how her parents might feel.

'Are you worried about what they'd think of you after so long apart?' Lily asked gently. 'Or how they'd react when they find out about what you _had_ to do?'

'B-Both,' Hermione squeaked. 'I…I…I'm afraid that they'll hate me.'

Hermione waited for Lily to reply in the affirmative. She _expected_ her to. Now that she had voiced her concern, she thought that it was ridiculous that she had even had this concern in the first place. Of course her parents were going to hate her. She had gone behind their backs and modified their memories, had uprooted their whole lives, had made them forget that she even existed so that she could put herself in danger without feeling guilty about the ones she had left behind. Who would not hate someone like that? She was a coward. That was all she was.

'Hermione, look at me,' Lily breathed. Hermione obediently looked up into her eyes. They were the same shade of green as her son's. Like mother, like son, there was something about those eyes that calmed her, created hope in her out of nothing.

'Hermione, your parents could _never_ hate you,' she said quietly but firmly. 'You're their daughter. You were in danger. _They_ were in danger. You had to make a painful choice. They'll understand it. If not immediately, in time.'

'W-What did y-your parents say?' Hermione stammered nervously. 'When you joined the Order?'

Lily's face grew dark. 'My mother died in my fifth year at Hogwarts. My father, so heartbroken at my mother's death, died of a heart attack a month into my seventh. They never knew what happened.' She shot Hermione a heavy look. 'Trust me, Hermione. It is better that you have your family, even if you have to go through so much heartache to get them back, than to have lost them so early. Even Harry might not know how absolutely terrible it is. He never knew myself or James – until now, I mean. It is so much worse when you grow up with them, then lose them when you're so young.'

Hermione gulped. 'I…I'm sorry…'

'There's no need to be,' Lily replied. 'This is long in the past…well, absolutely speaking, anyway. I'm not saying what you're going through isn't hard, Hermione, but the alternative is so much worse.'

'You…you're positive that they won't hate me?'

Lily shook her head. 'I can't be positive about anything, but if they love you, I cannot see them holding a grudge against you for doing what you had to do.'

'But…but what if they do?' Hermione asked, afraid.

'Then…well, I know this probably won't be much, but I'll still be there for you. And James, and Sirius,' Lily said, squeezing Hermione's elbow. 'And Harry. No matter what you might think, he will never leave you. He loves you too much for that.'

Hermione felt an electric jolt course through her upon hearing those last few words, followed by something that gave her a tender, fuzzy feeling that warmed even her extremities.

 _He loves you too much for that_.

That was silly, Hermione thought. Of course Harry loved her. She loved him. They were best friends.

But at the same time, she knew somehow that that had not been the meaning of Lily's words.

'You should get some rest,' Lily said gently. 'We'll arrive in Japan in six hours, and we'll still have a lot of travelling to do after that.'

Hermione nodded. Now that Lily had mentioned it, she did feel unusually tired. Her worry and anxiety, perhaps, had sapped her. After a moment's hesitation, she leaned her head on Harry's and closed her eyes. Just before they shut all the way, she saw a blessed smile cross Lily's face.

Hermione's dreams were confused yet beautiful and warm at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enormous thank-you's to Aani and maschl, without whose help this chapter would have been nowhere near as polished.
> 
> This chapter will be the most angsty that this story will get. Starting soon, characters will begin to take action to fix things.


	7. Tempered Glass

Harry stood in the entrance before the Great Hall, waiting for his date. It was the night of the Victory Ball, and Remus had just entered the Hall with Tonks; Sirius with a witch that Harry did not know the name of. Fred arrived with Angelina, George with Alicia, and both Weasley twins gave him a wink as they passed him.

There was movement behind him. He turned around, and down the staircase came Hermione, wearing beautiful, floating blue dress robes that suddenly took his breath away. She beamed when she saw him, then came up to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. Looking as happy as can be, she took his arm and guided him into the Great Hall.

'Harry.'

Hermione twirled around him gracefully for what seemed like ages that passed in seconds. Far too soon, the Ball began to wind down, and somehow, they found themselves in each other's arms. Harry was staring into her eyes, glistening with bliss. The lights in the Great Hall began to dim as the guests started to exit, returning home for the night.

Hermione said something that Harry did not quite catch, but the moment she said it, Harry felt a warm surge flow through his veins, drowning him in euphoria. He made a motion to leave, but Hermione's arms kept him on the spot.

'Harry, wake up.'

McGonagall stepped down from the front of the Hall and began to gently herd the lingering guests off the dance floor. She seemed to all but ignore Harry and Hermione, however, and they stayed where they were, still swaying gently and rhythmically.

The Great Hall was now empty. All the students and staff had departed, and it was just the two of them left. Hermione said something that sent another jolt of glee through Harry's body. It was only then that he realised that their faces were so close that the tips of their noses were touching.

'Harry, wake up! We're almost there.'

Hermione whispered something, and Harry, after a moment of hesitation, whispered the same something back. Slowly, they leaned in towards each other. Their lips touched, tentatively at first, then the kiss deepened. Soon, their lips were parted, tongues dancing in one another's mouths, hands wandering…

Harry felt someone shaking him. 'Harry!'

His eyes shot open, and there was Hermione's face, mere centimetres from his. He had to blink several times before he realised that it had all been a dream. He was still on the plane. They had departed from Tokyo however many hours ago, and they must be close to arriving already. A part of him could not help but feel disappointed – Hermione's face being so close to his certainly did not help matters. Involuntarily, his eyes drifted down to her lips, wondering if they really were as soft and kissable as they had been in his dream.

'We're almost there,' Hermione said, rolling her eyes. 'Come on, get ready.'

Harry sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He righted his seat back and peeked out the window as he felt his ears pop. Down below, he could begin to see individual houses, cars moving along roadways. The scenery, even from the air, looked noticeably different than Britain.

The aeroplane touched down several minutes later. It took them ten or so minutes to taxi to the gate, then another ten to disembark. A full hour later, after passing through a particularly crowded passport control, they made their way to their next gate to catch their third and final flight.

They arrived to find the waiting area completely deserted. They were nearly two hours early, after all. Lily, perhaps seeing an opportunity, discreetly drew her wand, casting several privacy charms, before taking out her tiny communication mirror.

'James Potter,' she whispered.

James appeared in the mirror several seconds later. 'Lily!'

'Good…morning?'

'It's seven in the evening here,' James said with a grin. 'So, good evening.'

'It's six in the morning here,' Lily shot back, rolling her eyes. 'So, good morning. Anyway, how is everything?'

James sighed. 'Padfoot's asleep upstairs,' he said, the grin fading from his face. 'He got back from St Mungo's disoriented and groggy. It's the aftereffects of the potion they gave him. He noticed the Firewhiskey missing, though, and had a good shout about it to his mother's portrait before tiring himself out after ten or so minutes and going to sleep.'

Lily gulped. 'In any other context, him shouting at Walburga's portrait would actually be funny.'

'I know,' James replied morosely. 'I think he realises he really overstepped it this time, though. Also, I had a talk with Kreacher. He agreed to let me know if Sirius orders him to buy him any more Firewhiskey.'

Lily nodded grimly. 'Good idea. But you know you can't just rely on Kreacher, right? If Sirius orders him to buy him alcohol, he has to. If he wants him to keep it a secret, he can't tell you even if he wants to. It's hardly failproof.'

'I'll try to talk to Sirius,' James promised. 'I…I don't know what I can really do, though.'

Lily sighed. 'There's not much you can do with magic alone, really. The muggles know how to treat this kind of thing far better than any healer. Maybe you could look for a muggle book on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?'

'Post…what?' James asked. Through the mirror, Harry saw him grab a pencil and a scrap of parchment.

'Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,' Lily repeated. 'It might be what Sirius is dealing with. I don't know how much you can learn out of a book…muggles go to school for years to learn how to treat this kind of thing…but even if you try to do _something_ …it could be better than nothing. It would be better to find an actual muggle psychologist, but…well, it'd be impossible to find one who's aware of the wizarding world…'

James nodded solemnly. Harry could see the pensive look on his face. 'I will look into it,' he replied decisively a few minutes later. 'How are you?'

'Tired,' Lily said with a yawn. 'We've been travelling nonstop for…for almost a whole day. We still have a few more hours to go before we get there.'

'Well, then get some rest,' James replied. 'Everything's fine here. If anything happens, well…now we know that these mirrors work regardless of distance.'

'Make sure you do, too,' Lily said. 'Later.'

She closed the mirror and pocketed it, letting out a breath of relief. 'I hope that there's something James can do,' she said quietly after a minute. 'About what Sirius's is going through, I mean… But…you can't simply replicate a psychology degree out of a textbook…'

She gave Harry and Hermione a forlorn look, then took a deep breath, steeling herself for something. 'Pardon me, but…I have to ask. Have you two ever…ever…you know…like what Sirius is going through?'

Harry gulped. His immediate reaction was to deny it, to not show weakness in front of his mother. Even if he rationalised that she would not judge him, he still did not want to pass the burden to her. Why should he unload his darkness on her, who had passed these last few years blissfully away from the terror, and force her to suffer through something that should have been his own struggle?

He opened his mouth, wanting to say that he was fine, but Hermione beat him to it.

'Y-Yes,' she said in a small voice. 'Sometimes…though less now.'

'How?' Lily asked quietly, a look of mixed heartache and curiosity on her face. 'You said it happens less…how?'

'Harry helps,' Hermione answered, equally quietly. 'He…we…we help each other…'

Lily's look shifted to one of melancholy. She gave a small nod, looking like she was at a loss for what to say. 'I'm sorry…I don't know what I can do – '

'You don't need to be sorry,' Hermione interrupted, her voice filled with quiet conviction. 'We…we'll be fine. I have Harry, and…well…he has me, I guess.'

Harry shot her a shy smile and reached over, squeezing her hand. She squeezed back, leaning her head on his shoulder.

'Don't ever forget how lucky you are to have each other,' Lily said quietly but gently.

_No, I will never forget_ , Harry swore to himself.

* * *

James pushed his way down a crowded Euston Road. Sirius was still asleep at home, and hopefully, he will stay asleep for a while. James had asked Kreacher not to wake him, and Kreacher was generally good about doing what he was asked to.

He tried to remember the name of the bookshop that Lily had brought him to years ago – well, not that many years ago, in terms of his own magically warped perception of time. It had been on their second date over Christmas Holidays their seventh year. Blackwell's, he thought it was called. It had specialised in academic books of the type that he needed now. He remembered that there was a location somewhere near here.

After several minutes of walking, he found it. He crossed the road and pushed open the door. Immediately, he was faced with rows and rows of bookshelves, filled from floor to ceiling with thick tomes. James suddenly realised that he was hopelessly lost. He would never be able to find what he was looking for in this veritable jungle.

James walked up to the counter. It was probably a better use of his time to simply ask one of the employees. He waited in line while the people in front of him paid for their purchases, leaving with large, heavy bags in hand. Finally, he was called up.

'How may I help you?' the young man asked.

'Do you have any books on…uh…Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?' James asked, feeling clueless and slightly clueless.

The man examined him for a long moment with his eyes. 'Is this for your research?'

'Uh…yes?'

The man pushed a button, and a minute later, a woman came up to the counter. 'You were looking for works on PTSD, Mister?' James nodded. 'Follow me, please.'

James followed the woman through the seemingly endless maze of bookshelves. Finally, the woman stopped in the middle of a section marked 'Psychology'. James watched as she combed through the shelves, trying to locate what he was looking for.

'Here, Mister,' she called from a short distance away.

Feeling a sense of anticipation, James walked up to her and saw that she was pointing at a row of thick books. He glanced at the spines of the books, and found that he did not even understand what half of them meant. He suppressed a gulp. Now was not the time to back out. He needed to help Sirius.

'This is an anthology of landmark papers published on the subject,' the woman said, pulling one of the books off the shelf. James took it from her eagerly. 'Over here is an overview of treatment trials and their effectiveness. This book is a brief…'

James lost track of what she was saying, but nodded automatically to her words and kept accepting books from her. When they reached the end of the bookcases, James already had a stack of books so high that it almost reached his chin.

'Those are all the books we have,' the woman said. 'Do you need anything else? We could place an order if you do.'

James shook his head dumbly. 'I…uh…I think that's all I'll need for now.'

The woman nodded. 'Okay. This is a subject with a lot of ongoing research, so make sure to check regularly for new books and papers if you need them.'

'Yeah…okay, I'll do that, thanks,' James said. 'And…do I go back to the counter to check out?'

The woman nodded. 'If that's all, you can follow me back to the registers.'

More than fifteen minutes later, with a heavy, book-filled bag in his hands, James left the bookshop, stepping out onto the street. He walked back down Euston Road and found the secluded alleyway that he had apparated to on the way here. With a crack, he disapparated and landed on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place before slowly and quietly pushing open the door.

Kreacher was there in an instant. 'Mister James has returned?'

'Yes. Is Sirius still asleep?'

'Kreacher has not woken Master Sirius,' Kreacher answered with a bow. 'Kreacher has only heard snoring from inside Master Sirius's room.'

James nodded. 'Thank you,' he said.

The elf bowed again. 'What may Kreacher do for Mister?'

'Could you please bring as much parchment as you can find down into the kitchen?' James asked. 'And a big bottle of ink and a good quality quill. And then could you make me a kettle of tea?'

'Yes, Mister James,' Kreacher replied, bowing again and popping out of the room. James walked down the stairs into the basement before clearing the table and setting down the books. He arranged them in neat piles, much like Lily used to do when she was revising. Kreacher brought down a huge stack of parchment, a bottle of ink, and an expensive-looking quill, followed a few minutes later by a steaming kettle of tea.

James flipped open the first book and tried to skim the first paragraph of the first paper. With a sigh of unsurprised disappointment, he found that he had managed to understand very little. James read it over again, more carefully this time, and understood a little more. A third time, a little more. A fourth time, he was able to start stitching together the big ideas in his head.

He drew his wand and sent a Patronus to Kingsley. This was going to take a while, and even if he was kicked out of the Auror Office because he failed to show up to training next week, he was going to find a way to help Sirius.

* * *

Hermione woke up to find herself in a hopeless tangle of limbs. She had to stretch her neck to look over at the clock on the hotel room nightstand between their bed and Lily's. It was six in the morning. She had just slept for thirteen hours straight.

She glanced over at Harry. His left arm was trapped by her body, his right, threaded under her left arm. His legs were draped over hers, pinning them to the mattress. By his slow, deep breathing, he was evidently still asleep. Her legs felt numb, but she did not try to wake Harry. She felt comfortable the way it was.

Hermione felt excited and scared at the same time. If she was lucky, before the day was out, she would be reunited with her mother and father. But despite all that Lily had said to comfort her, despite all the love and care that Harry had shown her, she was still frightened by the very real possibility that her parents would reject her.

_All the love that Harry had shown her._ That was what it was, was it not? All the little things that Harry did for her – the cup of hot tea when she was feeling down, the times when they could communicate whole ideas without words, the times when he simply held her and let her cry when she needed release. And she had not known what to call it until Lily had attached a word to the feeling.

And somewhere in her heart, she knew without knowing that she loved him too. It was deeper than any friendly or familial love, and it more resembled the love that her parents showed each other. The physical attraction was certainly there, she was sure of it, but it did not burn bright of lust like a crush. It was…something else, something that she had never felt for anyone before. She did not know when it had begun to develop in her, but looking back, it had been there for a long time, perhaps even before they had moved in together at the end of the war, though it had certainly gotten stronger since then.

Harry's eyes opened. He blinked several times, trying to shake off the lingering sleep. When his eyes focused and he saw her, he smiled. It was a shy smile, perhaps shier than any smile she remembered from him, but there was something about it that was so tender, so warm, so beautiful.

'Good morning,' he whispered. 'Slept well?'

Hermione nodded. 'Thirteen hours well.'

Harry's smile faded, and his face took a more neutral expression. 'And how do you feel?'

'About what?'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'You know what.'

Hermione sighed. 'I'm nervous…I know you said…but I can't help but feel like they'll – '

She was interrupted when Harry gathered her in a gentle hug. Hermione felt warm and safe there, despite all that was raging inside her. Harry never used to give hugs, she realised. Not until several weeks ago, when she had finally broken through his defences. Now, she could not fathom going back to the days before, when he would be loath to give any show of physical affection.

'It'll be okay,' he said quietly. 'I know it'll be okay.'

Hermione nodded into his chest, not quite believing him, but not finding it in herself to disagree. She relaxed into his chest, content to just be here with him. Even if things did not work out with her mother and father, she would still have him.

And that would be enough for her.

It was nearly another hour before Lily woke up. A little unwillingly, Hermione broke away from Harry to clean herself up and get dressed. She had trouble choosing what to wear, which was unusual for her. Should she wear something nicer? But that felt too formal. Should she just wear her regular clothes? But that felt somewhat off. She would not be meeting people she did not know, but was she really going to meet with her parents? She sympathised with Harry, having parents that were there, but almost like strangers.

Finally, after much deliberation, she settled on something somewhere between the two extremes. She wore her usual jeans and trainers, but put on a blouse in place of her usual shirt. In vain, she tried to brush her hair, but found that it was simply causing her unnecessary pain as the bristles pulled at the stubborn knots.

She left the bathroom. Harry was sitting on the bed, already dressed. He turned to look at her with a customary morning smile.

'You look good,' he said shyly, blushing slightly.

Hermione, feeling particularly adventurous, twirled on the spot. Harry let out a small chuckle at her display, blushing harder.

Hermione giggled a little. _Giggled!_ 'You look good, too.'

That caused Harry's face to turn as red as a tomato. 'Uh…th-thanks,' he muttered, looking at his feet.

After fifteen or so minutes, they headed out for breakfast. They did not have many options at half-past-seven, but Lily managed to locate a small café by the water. The early morning was a little foggy, and Hermione looked across the bay, wondering if her parents were on the other side, or perhaps if they were even closer.

Hermione did not really feel like eating much, but Harry and Lily ordered something for her anyway. 'You'll need your energy,' Lily had said over her protests of just wanting a croissant and a cup of coffee.

Despite initially not wanting to eat anything, Hermione ended up downing two eggs, several strips of bacon, half of an avocado, and washed it all down with two gratuitous cups of coffee. When they finished, Hermione was feeling not just full, but almost bloated.

'It's going to take a while to walk this off,' Harry groaned, rubbing his stomach. He had eaten even more than she had. Hermione could not fathom how.

'We'll need to find a newsagent's,' Hermione said. 'That'll let us get some walking in.'

Harry – once again, over Hermione's protests – paid for their meal, and they left in search of a newsagent's, or anywhere they could find a phonebook. The city at this hour was still rather deserted, though gradually, as they walked, more and more cars and people began to fill the streets.

'Look,' Harry said, stopping suddenly. Hermione looked around to see that they were standing in front of a small bookshop. 'I think we might have some luck in there.'

Harry led the way in, Hermione following him, anticipation welling up inside her. It was a small shop, but Hermione could not help but feel excited upon seeing the rows and rows of shelves inside. This was the sort of place she could spend a whole day in, but she could not do that right now. She had a task.

Hermione walked up to the counter. 'Uh…good morning. Do you have a telephone directory for sale?' she asked the woman standing there.

'Yes, we do,' she answered. 'Would you like one of just the Hobart area or one of all of Tasmania?'

'Both,' Hermione replied. She remembered her mother's note. Besides the words 'by the bay', there was nothing else pinpointing where exactly they lived. For all Hermione knew, they could actually be living on the opposite side of the island. It was better to be safe now than disappointed later.

The lady reached behind the counter and grabbed two thick books, setting them down on the counter with a thud. 'That'll be six dollars, please.'

Hermione dug out a few coins from her pocket and paid for the books. She grabbed them quickly off the counter, thanked the woman, and left the shop.

She sat down on a bench a short distance away, Harry and Lily plopping down on either side of her. She opened the Hobart area book first, flipping through and looking for the 'Dentists' section. She found it way in the back and began looking through the list of names, trying to find the name 'Wilkins'.

Hermione found her hands trembling as she looked. Harry took her left hand and rubbed it gently, which seemed to calm her, if only just by a little. She looked down the list, feeling a jolt of anticipation mixed with dread with each name she encountered. When she reached the 'W's', the feeling only grew stronger.

_Wang, Wentworth, Wilder…_

_Wilkins_.

Hermione gasped. She read the line again.

_Wilkins Dentistry – Wilkins, Wendell, (03) 6101 2024_.

She blinked, making sure that she was not seeing double. The text on the page did not change. It must be them, Hermione thought excitedly. The name matched, the profession matched. It could be a coincidence, a pessimistic part of her mind supposed, but it all seemed to fit far too well to be just that.

Mutely and feeling like she was trapped in her own bubble, Hermione rose from the bench. There was a pay phone booth several steps away. She walked over, feeling unaware of her surroundings, and lifted the handset to her ears. She fed several coins into the machine and punched in the number, carefully making sure that she did not miss a single digit.

The dial tone sounded two times before someone picked up on the other end. 'Wilkins Dentistry,' came her mother's voice.

Hermione froze on the spot. Somehow, she was not prepared to hear her mother's voice again. Despite having found them, despite going to the telephone to call them, she had not expected to be facing her so soon. All her fears of her parents' rejection suddenly came flooding back in force.

'Hello?' her mother's voice said again.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on the small of her back and Harry's chin come to rest on her left shoulder. That seemed to give Hermione the small boost of courage she needed. She swallowed hard, taking a deep breath and collecting herself. She remembered what Lily had said the previous day. No matter what happened with her parents, she would still have Harry, and she had to believe that.

'Hello, is this Wilkins Dentistry?' she asked quietly, trying to keep her voice from shaking too much.

'Yes, this is Wilkins Dentistry,' her mother said, sounding slightly impatient.

'Uh…I'd like to…uh…make an appointment,' Hermione said.

'An appointment?' her mother asked. 'For what?'

Hermione tried to concoct a story on the spot. 'My…uh…my friend was eating…and he bit something the wrong way and chipped his tooth. It's a bit of an emergency.'

She heard her mother sigh. 'How bad is his pain?'

'Bad,' Hermione said, trying to now fake a panicked voice. 'He's…uh…he's having trouble talking. He'll need treatment as quickly as possible.'

'That must be really bad, then…let me see where we can fit him in.'

Hermione waited, holding her breath. Through the phone, she could hear pages rustling, as her mother no doubt flipped through her planner, looking for an opening. Some habits simply did not change, it seemed, even after memories were modified. That thought gave Hermione some small comfort.

'He can come in at ten,' her mother finally replied. 'I will be free to help him. What is his name?'

'It's Harry Potter, Mu…er…Missus Wilkins,' Hermione squeaked, barely able to hold her emotions in. 'Where…uh…where's your practice?'

'Eighty-eight Esplanade, Rose Bay,' her mother answered. 'Across the bay from the city.'

Hermione nodded despite knowing that her mother could not see her. 'Thanks…uh…I'll see you soon, then.'

'Yes, I will see you at ten.'

Hermione hung up the phone. She did not know how to feel. She wanted to scream, to cry, to curl up in a ball in fright all at the same time. She turned slowly on the spot, and found herself staring right at Harry, who was looking at her with an amused smile.

'You told them that _I_ chipped my tooth?' he chortled. 'Always wishing the worst on me, aren't you?'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'I needed an excuse, and that was the first thing I came up with.'

'Ah, yes, and you defaulted to making me suffer.'

Hermione snorted. 'You didn't actually suffer.'

'It's the thought that counts,' Harry replied with an adoring smile that made Hermione blush.

'Right…well…your appointment is at ten,' Hermione said breathily, changing the topic. 'I have the address. It's eighty-eight Esplanade.' She looked at her watch. 'I think we should go now. It's in forty minutes.'

They went back into the bookshop to ask for directions and buy a map. Ten minutes later, they got on a bus, which took them across the bay and into a mostly residential area. Hermione quietly stared out the window during the trip, resisting Harry and Lily's attempts to engage her in conversation. Now that she was so close, was she prepared for the meeting at all?

The three of them got off the bus and walked a short distance to the given address. Despite the warm spring sun, Hermione felt cold sweat on her back, on the soles of her feet, on her palms…everywhere. Somewhere along the way, she had taken Harry's hand and was gripping it tightly, but that, for once, did not do anything to stop the nervous chill that she was feeling.

'We're here,' she breathed, stopping in front of a large, modern-looking house right by the bay. The view out onto the water was beautiful, but she felt no will to revel in sightseeing. She turned towards the house, but she could not lift her feet to walk towards the front door. She could not move at all.

'Remember, whatever happens, we'll still be here for you,' Lily said, patting her on the shoulder.

Hermione tried to say 'thank you', but what came out of her throat was instead an indistinguishable gulping sound. She could not speak, either.

'Hey,' Harry breathed in her ear. Somehow, Hermione found the strength to turn towards him. He hugged her, more gently than he had ever, and rubbed her back soothingly.

'You heard Mum,' he whispered. 'We're here for you.'

Hermione nodded into his chest. 'What if…what if…what if they don't love me anymore?'

'They won't,' Harry said, pulling back slightly and looking her directly in the eyes. 'But if they really don't…well, I don't know how much this will help, but…' He swallowed hard and his face turned red. 'I'll still love you,' he finished, his voice barely a whisper.

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. 'You will?'

Harry smiled a smile that made her heart melt. She felt a sudden desire to gush, tell him that she loved him, too, but swallowed it, knowing that this was not the time.

'As always,' Harry said, sounding slightly amused. 'Come on, it's time for my appointment.'

Together, they walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, and enormous thank-you's to Aani and maschl, without whose help this chapter would have been nowhere near as polished.
> 
> IMPORTANT: James knows about as much as I know about PTSD and how to treat it. He is not supposed to be a perfect therapist or even a good one. He is someone who is trying his best to help a friend in a world with no conception of mental health (remember that 'mind healers' are purely fanon) and where going to a muggle psychologist is completely out of the question for obvious reasons of Statute of Secrecy and believability.
> 
> If you or someone you know is suffering from PTSD or any mental health condition, please do not take this story as a guide or even a suggestion on how to treat it! Unlike the wizarding world, in the regular world, there are resources available that can help you. Please take care, especially during these recent times.


	8. Come Together

James had not slept for almost two days. At this point, he was being driven only by coffee and Invigoration Draughts, and even those were beginning to not be enough to keep him going. He constantly felt his eyelids drooping, his head lull forward, but whenever that happened, he would pinch himself. He would not rest until he had figured something out for Sirius.

Sirius had been keeping to himself lately, and James had only seen him two or three times since he had come back from St Mungo's. Kreacher had reported that he had not ordered him to buy any more Firewhiskey, though whether that meant that he had actually stopped drinking or not was a separate question altogether.

Despite all the muggle scientific jargon, James thought that he was actually beginning to understand the nature of Sirius's illness. The papers all seemed to point at a need to expose the sufferer to memories which frightened them, and in this way, help them learn to confront them. James had thought long and hard about how he could do that. Some of the reports that he had read said that imagined exposure was the preferred treatment for certain experiences – especially typical ones suffered by war veterans, it seemed. But for those for which it was not, he needed to think of another solution. Perhaps he could get his hands on a Pensieve and try to see if he could replay any of Sirius's memories? He shrugged and wrote that idea down on a separate piece of parchment.

He reached the end of the book and pushed it away from himself. His stack of notes was now almost as thick as one of the books themselves. Most of the notes were simply defining terms that he had come across in his readings. Lily had been right – it was almost impossible to replace a formal muggle education on these matters with self-teaching.

But somehow, he had managed to teach himself, in his limited view, enough. He knew at least where to start, and that was, if he had to be honest with himself, already head and shoulders above the St Mungo's healers. Perhaps he was just motivated – who would not be if your best mate and brother by all but blood was living a daily hell?

And what of Harry? Or Hermione? What horrors had they been through? What haunts their nightmares? James did not know, and an irresponsible part of him hoped never to find out. But if they needed help…they should have someone competent that they could turn to, and James needed to be that person.

James yawned. As much as he wanted to go to Sirius's room right now, he needed to catch some sleep first. He would do him no good if he could barely concentrate on keeping his own eyes open. After bidding Kreacher to wake him up in three hours, he laid down on the sofa and closed his eyes.

It felt like only an instant had passed before Kreacher was shaking him awake. James opened his eyes groggily.

'Invigoration Draught, Mister,' Kreacher said, holding out a small vial of golden potion. James took it from him, unstopped it, and downed it in one gulp. That, combined with the nap, seemed to put some energy and focus back into him.

'Where is Sirius?' he asked, sitting up.

'Master Sirius is upstairs in his room,' Kreacher replied. 'Kreacher has been ordered not to disturb him.'

'Thank you,' James said as he stood up. He stretched and walked over to the table to grab his pile of notes before leaving the kitchen and quietly climbing the stairs.

As expected, when he reached the fourth floor, he found Sirius's door shut and the landing eerily quiet. He walked up to the door and knocked once, but received no response. He knocked again. Still no response. Unwilling to give up, he knocked a third time.

'Kreacher?' came Sirius's annoyed voice.

'No, it's me,' James called back. 'May…may I come in?'

There was a moment of silence, broken only by a loud sigh. 'Come in,' Sirius groused, sounding clearly like he wanted anything but that.

James pressed down on the door handle and pushed the door open. Sirius was sitting on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Several unwashed plates were on the nightstand, but to James's relief, he did not spot any new bottles of Firewhiskey. The smell of alcohol which had hung over the room the last time he had come in was still there, but thankfully far lessened.

'What did you want, Prongs?'

James, unfazed by Sirius's attitude, sat down on a chair opposite his bed. 'How are you, Padfoot?'

'How well can I be?' Sirius replied shortly. 'I come back from St Mungo's only to find that you've thrown out all my drink.'

James sighed. 'You know I had to. You said it yourself that you went over the line that night.'

'I went over the line, yes,' Sirius said. 'That doesn't mean I can't have a few shots of – '

'A few shots, Sirius?' James asked, raising an eyebrow. 'Sirius, we found five or six empty bottles in your room. You were going through a bottle a day, at least.'

'And so?' Sirius challenged, his voice rising slightly. 'Nothing bad happened – if we don't count that night. If anything, it helped.'

James swallowed hard. He had known that Sirius had been abusing Firewhiskey as a coping mechanism since that night, but he was shocked by the cavalier ease at which he admitted it and then dismissed it as no problem at all. But if anything, that only strengthened his resolve to continue.

'Sirius, drinking isn't the solution to anything,' James said, unsure of how exactly to start the conversation. 'There are other ways. Better ways. Ways that can _actually_ help you.'

Sirius laughed cuttingly. 'Like what? You saw what they did at St Mungo's. They gave me a Dreamless Sleep Potion and sent me on my way. It fixed nothing.'

'Dreamless Sleep Potions can't fix what you're going through,' James agreed sympathetically. 'But neither can Firewhiskey.'

Sirius snorted. 'It seems to be doing pretty well so far.'

'Until it landed you in St Mungo's.'

'Well, it's not like we have any other ideas.'

'Actually, I do,' James said quietly. 'What you're going through isn't unique. Lily said that muggle medicine knows about what you're suffering. They call it Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. There are ways that they know to help treat it.'

'Yes, and what would the muggle Healer say when I start spouting about Azkaban and dementors and Death Eaters?' Sirius demanded. 'They won't think that I've got Post-whatever. They'll think I've gone mental. Great, so muggles know about it, but that doesn't help me one bit.'

James took a deep breath and grabbed his stack of notes, feeling a sudden self-doubt now that he was about to have this conversation for real. 'I've been learning as much as I can about it on my own,' he began. 'I don't know how much I actually know or how much I can do…muggles go to school for years to learn about this. But I think I know where to start.'

Sirius looked still dejected and unconvinced. 'And where will you start?'

James took another deep breath. 'The muggle research…they all seem to say that you need to be exposed to what you fear. Exposure…reliving…that way you'll slowly learn to confront it.'

'Expose? What, you want to bring a dementor in here? This house is terrible enough without one of those things floating around.'

'No,' James said with a quiet firmness. His initial nervousness over confronting Sirius had faded somewhat, and for a moment, he felt like he was Head Boy again. This was just another situation that he needed to manage, that he needed to take the lead in. 'They say…we need to start first with imagining what you fear, learning to overcome that…and then, we'll need to re-create it. The best way I can think of to do it is with memories.'

Sirius shuddered involuntarily. 'You want me to relive Azkaban?'

James nodded grimly. 'That's exactly what you need to do.'

'And why would I want to do that?'

'Because it might help you.'

'So does Firewhiskey.'

James shook his head. 'That's a crutch. It gives you some relief now, maybe, but I think you and I both know that it will only hurt you in the long run. Judging by last Friday, it's already started to hurt you. You said as much yourself.'

The two men stared at each other in silence for a long time. James knew that Sirius did not want to go along with it – who would want to relive their worst memories, after all? – but he did not give in to his silent refusal. Sirius could not go on like this. He had to try to help him, no matter how limited his knowledge in the subject was.

'Fine,' Sirius finally relented. 'It's not like I can be made any worse.'

James nodded and did not comment. He skimmed through his notes again. _Start with something less severe_ , he had written down. He looked back up at Sirius and took a deep breath, mustering his will.

'Sirius, I need you to be honest.' Sirius only grunted in reply. 'Which memories…or experiences…terrifies you the most?'

'Everything,' Sirius replied monotonously.

'I understand. But what parts of "everything"? The dark? The cold? The dementors?'

Sirius shuddered again. 'The cramped space,' he whispered after a minute. 'That was the worst of all. You could barely stretch your legs in there.'

James nodded and wrote it down on the back of a blank sheet of parchment. 'What else?'

'The dementors,' he croaked. 'And the cold, the dread, the darkness…everything about that place.'

James continued taking down notes. _Doors slamming, the chains, the wind, explosions_ … By the time Sirius was finished, the list was almost half a page long. He tried to group the items – _Azkaban, Pettigrew, the War_ …

He looked over his list again. All the items grouped under ' _Azkaban_ ' were near the top, followed by ' _War_ ', and finally, ' _Pettigrew_ '. James almost breathed a sigh of relief. That was yet another small step forward.

The baby steps were out of the way, it was time for the big step. Suddenly, James felt more afraid than he had ever felt. Had he understood the research correctly? What if he did not? What if he did something wrong and inadvertently harmed Sirius instead?

He gulped hard, taking a few seconds and forcing those insecurities down. Trying to do _something_ , no matter how inexperienced he was at it, was better than sitting aside and doing nothing, he rationalised. He would take the risk of possible failure over letting Sirius continue drinking himself into oblivion any day.

'Sirius, could you please recount for me your confrontation with Wormtail?' James said, his eyes darting between his notes and his friend. 'In as much detail as you can? When you do…uh…try to picture what happened…replay the memory in your head as much as possible.'

Sirius looked doubtful, and James gave him a neutral but beseeching look, trying to coax him forward but also not push too hard at the same time. He looked at Sirius silently, giving him the option to make his own decision on whether go ahead or not.

After a few minutes of internal struggle, Sirius relented with a sigh, staring down at his lap with a downcast and grave look on his face, and began to speak.

* * *

… _Together, they walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell._

Hermione held her breath. One second had passed.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

The door swung open, and suddenly, she was facing her mother. Hermione froze on the spot as she took in her appearance. The curly hair, coloured somewhere between blonde and brown, was still the same as ever. The brown eyes that she had inherited still shone with intellect. The only thing that had changed since the last time she had seen her was that her face had tanned slightly thanks to the Australian sun.

'Hello,' she greeted with a smile before looking over at Harry. 'You must be Mister Potter?'

Harry nodded. 'Yes, Missus…uh…Wilkins.'

Her mother furrowed her brow. 'I thought you said that you had trouble speaking.'

'We gave him an aspirin tablet,' Hermione said, making up a story on the spot. 'It seemed to have eased the pain a little.'

'I see. Come on inside, then,' her mother said hurriedly. 'And we'll get you checked out.' She turned to look at Hermione. 'Sorry, and you are…'

'Uh…Hermione. Hermione Granger,' she replied absently, her nervousness beginning to get the best of her. She was already fingering the wand in her pocket, her head on a swivel, looking out for her father.

'You're the one who called?'

Hermione nodded unconsciously as she entered the house. 'Is Da…Mister Wilkins here?' she asked.

'Wendell is treating another patient right now,' her mother said. 'Your appointment is with me.'

'Will he be in the room?' Hermione pressed.

Her mother looked confused and irritated in equal measure. 'Yes, he will be in the room,' she replied, a little curtly. 'However, I don't think that will be important. Please, take a seat for a few minutes. Our assistant is out for the day. I will need to file some paperwork first.'

Hermione walked over to the sofa and sat down next to Harry, Lily taking the adjacent armchair. She was trembling slightly with nervousness, and Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. It did not help.

They waited in silence for several tense minutes. 'Mister Potter?' Harry nodded. 'Come on in.'

Harry stood up and gestured at Hermione. 'Can she come in with me?'

Her mother sighed annoyedly. 'Yes, your girlfriend can come with you.'

Hermione felt her face heat up at her mother's characterisation of her and Harry, but was too distracted by her nerves to think much more of it. She discreetly slipped her wand out of her pocket and hid it behind her back.

'Mister Potter, take a seat,' her mother said, pointing at a dental chair. Harry tried to shoot her one last brave look before going to sit down.

Hermione entered the room and froze. Her father was on the other side, having just finished working on a patient. She tightened her grip around her wand as her mother sat down. She had to wait for the other patient to leave before doing anything, but at the same time, before Harry got his teeth drilled unnecessarily.

'Which tooth did you chip?' her mother asked Harry, examining his mouth with a mirror. 'I don't see anything wrong.'

Hermione swore under her breath and silently willed for her father's patient to leave. If her mother realised that nothing was wrong…they might be kicked out, perhaps banned from the practice…and they would lose their best opportunity to restore their memories.

'One in the back,' Harry lied. 'On the right…on the inside…you might've missed it.'

Hermione heard her mother huff, but she picked up her mirror again and examined Harry a second time. She watched as her mother's facial expression grew confused, obviously seeing that there was nothing actually wrong with Harry. Hermione felt cold sweat break out all over her body. The hand gripping her wand was cold and painful. Their time was running out.

Finally, as if by some kind of miracle, her father's patient stood up. The patient, thankfully, said only a few words to him before heading out the door. She had a chance now.

Hermione raised her wand and pointed it at her father first. ' _Restituo_ ,' she whispered, waving her wand in a circle. Her father froze in place, standing stiffly, looking down at his chair. Without a further second's hesitation, she turned to her mother and whispered the spell again.

There was a long, pregnant silence. Then came her father's stunned voice.

'Hermione?'

'Hermione?' her mother breathed, spinning around on the spot. 'What…what…why are you…'

Hermione was at a loss for what to do. She cast a frightened glance in her mother's direction. On her face was a look of shock and surprise, but not anger or loathing. That seemed to give her some measure of hope. They did not hate her…yet.

'Mum?' she whispered. Her wand fell to the floor with a clatter, but she paid no notice. Mother and daughter stared at each other, neither of them knowing what to do or say to each other.

Helen Granger blinked. 'Where are we? This doesn't look like our practice.' She looked down at Harry. 'And…and who is this young man?'

'I…I'll e-explain everything,' Hermione stammered, feeling almost hysterical. 'C-Can we g-go out into the waiting room?'

'Wh-What? What's going on?'

'Please,' Hermione begged. 'I'll explain everything…can we just…not here?'

Her mother and father exchanged a look. Finally, Helen gave a tiny nod. Harry got up from the dental chair, and he and Hermione led the way out into the waiting room. Lily was still sitting there, trying to keep a unrevealing expression, but Hermione could see the questioning look in those green eyes.

Everyone took their seats uncomfortably. Hermione desperately wanted to hold Harry's hand as her nerves overtook her, but she knew that she could not. This was something she needed to face alone. Harry could not help her, no matter how much she may have wanted him to.

'So…where are we?' Josh Granger asked. 'This doesn't look like our practice…and who is this young man…and this young lady?'

'This is Harry Potter,' Hermione replied, nodding at Harry. 'I've told you about him. And, she,' she gestured towards Lily, 'she's Lily.'

'Good to meet you,' her father said in a distant voice, sounding like he was removed from reality. His eyes focused back on Hermione. 'Where are we, Hermione? And why are we here?'

Hermione took a deep breath. 'What was the last thing you remember?'

Her parents thought long and hard. 'I was sitting in the lounge,' Helen said pensively after a while. 'Watching television…and then…I was here…' She looked up at Hermione, and by her expression, Hermione realised that she had begun connecting the dots. 'Did you…did you do something to us?'

Hermione gulped. 'Mum, Dad…I…remember what I told you…the day before?'

'That there was some kind of conflict going on in…the other world,' her dad answered immediately. 'That there was someone who wanted to take over the government.'

'Yes…uh…he…well, he wasn't just "someone who wanted to take over the government". He was…imagine a wizard Hitler, one who believes that people…people like me…should be exterminated.'

'What do you mean, "people like you"?' her mother asked, brow furrowed. Suddenly, the realisation hit her, and her face took on an expression like she had just been run over by a train. 'You mean…people who were born from…non-magical parents?'

'Precisely,' Hermione squeaked. 'And he…and he tried. Many of the muggle-borns were rounded up and sent to Azkaban. That's the wizard prison guarded by creatures that suck your happiness and soul out.'

Her parents' faces paled quickly. Hermione did not know whether she should be glad of it or not, whether she should regret what she had just told them. It must have been a shock, she knew, for them to see the dark face of the magical world that she had kept to herself all these years, but on the other hand, they might come to accept her decision more easily if they knew, _really knew_ , what it had been like these last few years.

'So…did you have to run?' her mother asked. 'Or hide? Is that where we are?'

Hermione gave a tiny shake of her head. 'No…I didn't run…but…' She paused to swallow hard. 'They know who I am…they know I'm…I'm close to Harry…and they might have come after you for…for information. I had to…had to make sure that you were safe. That's why…that's why I had to send you here.'

'Send us where?'

'We…we're in Australia,' Hermione said, her voice barely above a whisper. 'Hobart, Tasmania.'

Her parents' eyes widened. 'Australia?'

Hermione nodded. 'I'm…I'm sorry…I needed to keep you safe,' she whimpered. 'I modified your memories so that you became Wendell and Monica Wilkins and that your life's ambition was to move to Australia. And then, after the war…if I was still…well, I was going to get you. And that's what I'm here for.'

Her mother and father took several long minutes to process that. 'You…wiped our memories?' her mother gasped.

Hermione shook her head. 'I didn't wipe your memories. I…I changed them…the charm I used could be reversed. I planned to come here and reverse the charm if…if I was still alive. If I were not…you'd have lived the rest of our lives as…as Wendell and Monica Wilkins…and you wouldn't have known that I had ever existed.'

If at all possible, her mother and father's countenances blanched even more. Suddenly, a terrible guilt came over her. Not once before had she brought up with them the very real possibility of her own mortality in the magical world. She had always pretended that the magical world was a safe and pleasant place, just so that her parents would allow her to return to Hogwarts…return to Harry…

'"If I was still alive",' her mother repeated. 'That means…did you not come to Australia with us?'

Hermione shook her head. 'I couldn't have…there was a war going on. Voldemort – the "Dark Lord" – he left pieces of soul in objects so that he couldn't be killed. We…we had to go look for those objects…find them and destroy them. And then kill him.'

'You?' her father breathed. 'You had to kill him?'

'Not…not me,' Hermione replied. 'Harry…there was a Prophecy about him. That he was destined to kill Voldemort or be killed by him…and I…I had to go with him. I couldn't just leave him to go it all alone…'

Hermione saw her parents' eyes shift onto Harry. 'You? You had to kill a Dark Lord?' her father asked, his voice bearing tones of shock but also awe and fear.

Harry nodded. 'I…I did. Apparently, I was supposed to before I was even born.'

Her father's eyes landed back on her. 'Hermione, you're telling us that you had to change our memories and send us to Australia so that _we_ wouldn't be killed while _you_ went out looking for pieces of a wizard's soul?'

Hermione nodded gingerly. 'That's…that's basically…yes. I…please, Mum, Dad. I only wanted you to be safe…'

'Two kids, out hunting for a Dark Lord?' her father asked. Hermione could detect some hint of accusation in his voice and had to suppress a wince. She had known that this would be coming. 'Isn't this what the adults are for? The wizards have a government, don't they? Isn't there a police force? Or an army? Why did _you_ have to go, Hermione?'

'The Ministry was overrun,' Hermione near-sobbed. 'The people that didn't switch sides and turn to them…they had to flee…or go into the underground resistance. There was nobody to help us…nobody that could've done it in our stead…'

'But there was an underground resistance,' her father reasoned. 'You needn't have gone, then…you could've come with us… What could two kids do that a group of adults cannot? It never had to be your war – '

'No,' Lily interrupted suddenly. Despite her looking more than a decade younger than Hermione's parents, they still fell silent at her firm tone. In all the time that she had spent with her, Hermione had never heard her use such an authoritative voice before – not even when reprimanding James or Sirius for their silliness.

'You probably don't know me,' she said. 'I'm Lily, Harry's mother.'

Unexpectedly, her father suddenly looked taken aback, his expression morphing into one of confusion. 'Mother? You don't mean…'

'I mean that I'm Harry's mother.'

Her father looked between Harry and Lily incredulously, blinking his eyes rapidly. 'Sorry…but you look so…'

Lily seemed to have suddenly understood the confusion. 'Ah, did you think I was Harry's older sister? Or his…stepmother?' Both her parents nodded. 'I promise you, I'm his mother.'

'But…you look so…young…'

Lily sighed. 'It's a…long story. It's…not important right now. I'll tell you later, if all goes well. Right now, we're here to talk about Hermione. May I continue?'

Hermione's parents both nodded, looking a little nervous at the tone that she was using on them, and Lily began to speak.

'I'm like your daughter in some ways. I was born to parents who were not magical, nor having any knowledge or conception of the magical world. Eighteen years ago, there was another war, led by the same Dark Wizard who led this one. The same things happened. Non-magical people were slaughtered for sport, muggle-borns were captured and murdered, half-bloods and pure-bloods that didn't want to follow his regime were suppressed or killed. It wasn't until…until I _died_ …that the war ended.'

Hermione saw her parents gape at Lily. 'You…what?'

'I died,' Lily repeated. 'Voldemort tried to kill Harry, because of the Prophecy, but he killed me instead – '

'But…but you're alive,' her mother gasped, her mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a goldfish. Hermione almost wanted to laugh. How her parents must be feeling today, having one insane story piled on to them after another.

'Things…happened. As I said…it's a long story and I promise I'll explain later,' Lily said quietly. 'What happened to me isn't the point. This wasn't a war that your daughter could've sat back and let play out. She was fighting for her own survival as well as Harry's. If Voldemort won, she wouldn't have been safe no matter where in the world she was. He would have hunted her down – hunted _you_ down – because she was close to Harry. No. You _must_ understand that the only way she would ever have been safe is if Voldemort was defeated once and for all.'

'And as for why she sent you here…' Lily added, 'I will tell you that if she had not, you would very likely not be alive today to talk to us.'

'Did you…did you send away your parents, Missus Potter?' Hermione's father asked in a far smaller voice than Hermione expected. 'During the earlier war?'

Lily's face grew stiff. 'No, I didn't. They had already died. Hermione chose the best option she had so that you wouldn't go the same way. You _cannot_ hold a grudge against her for it.'

Everyone in the room stared at each other with stunned expressions for many awkward minutes. Hermione wondered what her parents were thinking. Were they trying to heed Lily's advice and accept her decision? Or were they mustering up counterarguments against why she had to take part in the war and send them to Australia? The two options seemed equally likely to her, and every nerve in her body feared that it would be the second one.

But it was not. Her mother's mask broke first. At first, it was a small sniff, then a sob, then, she began fully crying into her own sleeve.

'Hermione…I'm…sorry…so sorry…' she choked through her sobs. 'I… _thank you_ …'

Hermione awkwardly stood up, impulsively deciding that she should do something, perhaps comfort her mother. She walked over to where she was sitting and lightly tapped her on the back. Suddenly, her mother's floodgates opened even wider. Helen threw her arms around her in a rib-crushing hug, weeping into her shoulder.

'I'm sorry…I never knew…what it was…I would've…no, you still wouldn't have been safe…thank you for…for keeping us…us safe…'

Hermione felt tears coming up to her eyes, too. Everything else was forgotten as she basked in the euphoria of her mother's forgiveness. _She had forgiven her!_ As unbelievable as it was, _she had forgiven her!_ She did not know how to feel. A part of her still refused to believe it; still feared that her parents would renege, turn around and reject her, but despite those feelings, she did not let go, only holding on to her mother more tightly.

After an eternity, her mother pulled back, her eyes red, her face streaked with tears. 'I…Hermione, please forgive me for doubting you…'

Hermione shook her head, sniffing back her own tears. 'You don't need to…anyone would have. I…thank you for forgiving _me_.'

'There's nothing to forgive,' her father said as he patted her on the top of her head, sounding just as emotional as her mother. 'As Missus Potter – '

'Please, Lily.'

'As Lily said, you took the best choice that you had.'

'I…I'm sorry,' Hermione whimpered. 'I…I know I could've done better…'

'Nonsense,' her father said firmly, moving up and wrapping his arms around both her and her mother. 'You're the best daughter we could've asked for. You were simply…put in bad situations beyond your control. And as it happens, we couldn't be more proud of you. You had to make hard choices and…well, it seems like you've made the right ones.'

Hermione nodded, her disbelief starting to fade away and giving in to the knowledge that her parents were, indeed, once again with her. 'I…I hope I have…'

'You have,' her mother whispered, squeezing her again. 'The fact that all of us are here proves it.'

She looked up at Lily and smiled sheepishly at her. 'Missus…uh…Lily? Th-Thank you…I don't know what I would've said…what I might've _done_ …if you hadn't – '

'It's nothing,' Lily said, smiling back. 'Well, you obviously love each other, I could see that. I wouldn't have wanted you to grow to not love one another because of something that happened because of a…terrible situation.'

Hermione's mother swallowed and nodded gratefully. Finally, her eyes settled on Harry. 'And you…can I call you Harry?' Harry nodded. 'You…you helped keep her safe…alive…'

'Missus Granger, I think Hermione might've kept me alive more times than I've kept her alive,' Harry replied with a small grin on his face.

'You keep each other safe,' Hermione's mother said, smiling back at him. 'From all that Hermione's told us…you're quite a duo, aren't you?'

Hermione saw Harry blush a faint pink. 'Mum,' she breathed waspishly. 'You can't just tell Harry all the things that I've told you about Harry.'

Her mother laughed, and Hermione's jubilation soared even further at the fact that some sort of easy joviality had made a return. 'Of course I can,' she teased. 'You never told me to keep it a secret, so it's fair game.'

Everyone laughed at that, and even Harry and Hermione managed small chuckles, partially for the sake of the parents but also out of genuine mirth. The laughter was music to Hermione's ears, and a sort of warm feeling, different yet similar at the same time to that which Harry invoked in her, coursed through her veins, warming her hands, her body, her soul.

'All of you will stay for lunch?' her mother asked, sounding hopeful.

'Uh…if it's not inconvenient for you,' Harry replied shyly. 'Don't you have other patients to treat?'

Hermione's father blinked. 'Did we have any appointments today? I can't remember…anything.'

'You have a schedule book on the counter, Mister Granger,' Lily said.

'Of course I do. Some habits just don't change, do they?' Hermione's father said with a laugh. He grabbed the schedule book from the counter and flipped through it quickly. 'There's nothing urgent for today, it seems. We can…uh…we can reschedule everything for tomorrow. After all these months apart…I'd give anything for us to spend some time together.'

'Of course we'll stay, then, Dad,' Hermione said with a beaming smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enormous thank-you's to Aani and maschl, without whose help this chapter would have been nowhere near as polished.
> 
> Important: James knows about as much as I know about PTSD and how to treat it (possibly at this point, a little more). He is not supposed to be a perfect therapist or even a good one. He is someone who is trying his best to help a friend in a world with no conception of mental health (remember that 'mind healers' are purely fanon) and where going to a muggle psychologist is completely out of the question for obvious reasons of Statute of Secrecy and believability.
> 
> If you or someone you know is suffering from PTSD or any mental health condition, please do not take this story as a guide or even a suggestion on how to treat it! Unlike the wizarding world, in the regular world, there are resources available that can help you. Please take care, especially during these recent times.


	9. Starry Night

James stepped into Grimmauld Place, another heavy bag of books in his hands. His first attempt yesterday had worked well enough, he supposed, for someone who had next to no training in how to treat these kinds of conditions. But Sirius had come out of it gaunt, shaken, and trembling slightly. He did not think that that was supposed to be a side effect of his attempt at therapy. Or perhaps it was. He did not know. He needed to do more research.

He sat down in a secluded corner of the library, which had become his second home, and Kreacher pre-emptively brought him a cup of strong coffee. 'Is Sirius asleep?' James asked the house elf after thanking him.

Kreacher nodded. 'Master Sirius is asleep.'

James thanked him, took a sip of coffee, and began to read. It was going to be another long night. The only time he had slept for these past three days had been those three hours earlier that day, and despite the rest, he was feeling the exhaustion already catching up to him again. Three paltry hours was no replacement for three real nights of sleep.

But this was more important. Not just for Sirius, but perhaps for his son and Hermione, too. To even imagine what they might have been put through during the war was enough to make him shudder, and he could not even begin to picture what kinds of effects it could have had on them. If he wanted to be Harry's father again – truly, not just in name – then he had better be prepared to help him if he ever came to him.

He read the first book cover to cover, taking several rolls of parchment's worth of notes but still finding that most of it went way over his head. Instinctively and without thinking, he moved on to the next, and then the next, and then…

James felt a small hand shaking him awake. He opened his eyes and found that he was staring right into a page in one of the textbooks. He blinked, trying to clear the sleep-induced blurriness from his vision before looking up into a pair of huge eyes.

He nearly jumped in fright before he realised that it was Kreacher, standing on the table. 'Did I fall asleep?' he asked groggily.

'Mister James fell asleep and slept for four hours,' Kreacher answered. 'Kreacher did not wake Mister. Mister James needed sleep, or he will fall ill.'

James nodded along absently. 'What's the time?'

'Seven in the morning,' Kreacher replied. 'Master Sirius is still asleep. Would Mister James care for breakfast?'

It took James several moments to process that. 'It's _seven_?'

'Yes, Mister James,' Kreacher affirmed.

' _Shite_ ,' James swore under his breath. He had wasted four hours of valuable research time, four hours in which he could have found something important, figured out something that could help.

'Mister James needed his sleep,' Kreacher said, perhaps seeing a guilty expression on James's face. 'Sleep will help Mister remember what he has read.'

'I could've found out about something that I was missing in those four hours,' James breathed. 'But I just slept through them.'

'No, Mister James cannot think like that,' Kreacher reprimanded. 'If Mister does not sleep, he might not be able to help Master Sirius.'

James sighed. Kreacher had a point, no matter how much he did not want to admit it. The four hours of unplanned sleep had restored him, and he felt more like a person again, and not a walking corpse. 'Yeah…I suppose it was for the better.'

Kreacher nodded. 'Yes, Mister James is thinking correctly. Now, you need to eat breakfast before going to Master Sirius's room. What would Mister like?'

'Anything,' James replied tiredly, rubbing his eyes. 'But I need a cup of coffee, please.'

Kreacher gave a bow and popped away to the kitchen, while James returned to his books. He re-read the chapter that he had fallen asleep in the middle of the previous night, and he felt a sense of relief. Discomfort was normal at the start, all the jargon seemed to distil down to. Sirius simply had to adapt to it over time. That was the point of the treatment.

James stopped reading only when Kreacher brought him a full breakfast. He wolfed it down, not having realised how hungry he was, but now remembering that the last time he ate was the previous evening, at dinner. In fifteen minutes, he managed to empty the plate, drain three cups of coffee, and eat three slices of toast on top. The late-night reading had sapped him more than he had realised.

He asked Kreacher to go see if Sirius was awake, and to James's equal parts trepidation and relief, he came back and answered in the affirmative. After a muttered 'thank you', James grabbed the stack of his notes, including all the new notes that he had taken the night before, and climbed up the stairs to Sirius's room.

He knocked on the door. 'Enter,' Sirius called in a fatigued voice. James turned the door handle and slowly pushed it open. Sirius was sitting on his bed, but unlike the previous day, it was made and tidied. Even the dirty clothes had been cleared off the floors and dumped in a corner.

'Cleaned up?' James asked.

Sirius shrugged. 'Thought I should.'

James nodded. That seemed like progress, no matter how insignificant or simple the act was. Sirius seemed to be at least finding the motivation to do _something_ now, rather than sitting about, drinking himself half to death…

'So, we're doing this again?' Sirius asked, sounding a little defeated.

James sighed. He knew that yesterday had not been a pleasant experience for him, but what choice did James have but to have him continue? It would hurt him almost more than James could bear in the short run, but in the long run, if it helped him…would it not all be worth it?

'We'll have to keep doing this for as long as it takes,' James muttered, sitting down.

'As long as it takes for what?'

'For you to get better,' James replied dejectedly. 'I know the cure feels almost as bad as the disease, but…'

'It's not _nearly_ as bad as the disease,' Sirius finished for him, sighing. 'Well, let's get this over with, then.'

James nodded and skimmed through his notes one more time. 'We'll work on what happened with Pettigrew again today,' he said, looking up.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'Again?'

James nodded. 'We'll keep working on one thing, until you're ready to move on.'

'When will I be able to move on?'

'When you don't fear that memory anymore,' James answered sadly. 'Or you fear it significantly less than you used to.'

'And how will we know when I "don't fear it anymore"?' Sirius asked, a little harshly.

James flipped through his notes, stopping at the page that he had been looking for. 'There's this scale that muggle…psychologists, they call them…came up with,' he explained. 'You're supposed to rank from zero to a hundred how much you fear something…and if there's a significant drop…then we can say that you fear it significantly less.'

'You want me to give you a number for that memory?'

James nodded. 'Please.'

Sirius thought for a while. 'One hundred is the most?' James nodded again. 'Then…forty.'

James nodded again and wrote the number down on a corner of a piece of parchment. He had not known about this scale until he had read about it last night in one of his new texts, so he had no benchmark to compare it to. The number forty still seemed disturbingly high, though, for what was supposed to Sirius's least feared memory. He did not want to imagine the number that Sirius might assign to his memories from Azkaban…

'Now what?' Sirius demanded when James looked back up at him. 'What do we do now with that number?'

'We'll need to work on lowering it,' James answered patiently, looking Sirius in the eyes. 'I'll need you to recount what happened that night, again, and in as much detail as you can. Make sure to try to picture what happened that night in your mind as clearly as you can while you talk.'

Sirius sighed, looking reluctant, but nodded anyway and began to speak. 'That night, at eight in the evening, I went to check on Pettigrew,' he began stiffly but quietly. 'When I arrived at his hiding place, it was empty. The protective enchantments were all still there. There obviously hadn't been an attack.'

Sirius swallowed, his face paling slightly, but he did not shudder. James felt some sense of hope in that. Could he already be getting better? But no, he could not decide just yet. There was not enough evidence at this stage to come to any conclusion about Sirius, no matter how small.

'I realised that something must've gone wrong, so I came immediately to the cottage. There, I…I found the t-top floor blown open. I went inside…your body was r-right inside the door, James…I had to step around it… I went up the stairs and then I saw L-Lily…d-dead in front of Harry's crib…'

Sirius shuddered, and James waited silently for him to go on, not pushing him. Sirius should speak on his own accord, and at the pace that he was comfortable going at.

'I picked Harry up…and went downstairs…and that was when Hagrid arrived,' Sirius continued, his voice beginning to tremble slightly. 'We had a short conversation…I forgot what we said…I was still in such shock…but I gave him Harry and the bike. I went back to my hiding place…I remember feeling so _angry_. I…I should never have suggested switching the Secret Keeper. It had just gotten you and Lily k-killed… I…I wanted to die myself…but I thought then that…that I needed to go after Pettigrew, get revenge for what he did.'

'The next day, I went after him…he always went to that muggle pub a short way from the Leaky Cauldron. So I went there…thinking that he might be dumb enough to go back there… When I went inside…I saw him sitting at the bar counter, a scotch in his hands…looking like nothing was wrong.'

Sirius's countenance had grown pale, and his trembling had intensified, but the near-panic that he had been in at this point yesterday had not yet begun to manifest itself. 'And I _lost_ it, Prongs,' he croaked. 'I started screaming abuse at him…and he just looked at me with those rat eyes…and he went out onto the street…and I followed him…and before I knew it, his wand was out, and he was shouting, "How could you, Sirius!" And then…he pointed it at the ground and cast the curse…'

Sirius took a few moments to compose himself, swallowing hard and biting down on his lips. 'And everything around me e-exploded. B-Bodies were…bodies were flying ev-everywhere…and then…I remember losing my mind… I just kept laughing…it felt like it was something out of a n-nightmare…and the next thing I remember…I was in a holding cell.'

James watched as Sirius's entire body grew limp as he finished his recount. He cupped his face and moaned painfully. James felt a certain sense of heartbreak mingled with hope. It hurt to see Sirius like this, but on the other hand, he seemed to be coming out of the shell that he had built for himself. At the very least, Sirius certainly looked better than he was the day before, when he had been on the verge of another series of terrible flashbacks…

He waited for Sirius to calm down on his own. It took nearly fifteen minutes, but James patiently waited. Finally, Sirius removed his hands from his face and sat up stiffly, his face pale but not quite colourless, his pupils wide but not quite absent.

'How do you feel?' James asked cautiously.

'A little better than yesterday,' Sirius whispered, his voice hoarse and dead. 'Still…still felt like shite, but…but better.'

James nodded, letting a wave of happiness and accomplishment lap at him just a little. 'A little better is good,' he said softly. 'A lot of littles add up to a lot.'

Sirius snorted. 'When have you become a philosopher, James?'

'When I needed to be,' James replied, feeling suddenly a grin wanting to break out on his face. 'Have you eaten breakfast, Sirius?'

Sirius shook his head. 'I've only been awake for maybe twenty minutes when you came in.'

'I'll have Kreacher bring up a plate – '

'No, I want to get out of here,' Sirius said, unexpectedly harshly, as he sat up on the edge of the bed. 'I can't stay in this room anymore…I can't stay in this bloody _house_ anymore. Let's add one more item to that list of yours, James: this damn place. All the shit my crazy mother put me through, all the months holed up in here, listening to Snape spew his bile about me "not doing anything useful". I want to leave.'

James was momentarily taken aback by Sirius's sudden outburst and did not know what to say. He understood his anxiety, but did not know what he could do to help him. Where would they go? They had nowhere else to live, after all.

The answer, though, came to him almost immediately. It was obvious where they could go – it was where they had originally planned to go, anyway. It could get Sirius out of the house he hated…yes…and maybe it could help him get his mind off things, as well. He would have to speak to Lily.

'I'll get you out of here, Sirius,' James promised, taking out his communication mirror and heading back downstairs.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the day at Hermione's parents' home. Initially, Harry and Lily had tried to keep their distance, giving space for the newly reunited family. Hermione, and later her parents, however, would have none of it, and Harry and Lily found themselves joining them for lunch and tea, feeling almost natural, like they had been acquaintances for weeks.

Hermione's parents' memories of their year in Australia, which they seemed initially to have lost, slowly trickled back to them. At first, it was small things – Josh knowing exactly where the plates were in the kitchen, or Helen punching in an Australian telephone number that she somehow knew by heart – but slowly, bigger memories began returning. Things like addresses, what they had done in the last few days, places in the city that they had been to…

In the evening, Hermione's parents brought them all to dinner at a restaurant overlooking the bay. The sun was beginning to set as they sat down, and the orange colours of the sky was reflected in the calm waters. For once, Harry felt warm and comfortable inside. The last visible scars of the war seemed to have been erased. Their families were whole again, at least on the surface.

The awkwardness was still detectable, even in the easy conversation that Hermione seemed to be making with her parents. Once or twice, when the topic came dangerously close to what had happened during the war, she would abruptly change the subject.

Despite all that, Harry felt at ease, more so than he had felt since the war had ended. Somehow, being with Hermione's parents did not make him feel as uncomfortable or out of place like being at the Burrow had – he felt somehow a little more like he belonged here. He knew it was a little silly, perhaps presumptuous, for he was still intruding on Hermione's family, but he could not suppress these feelings, nor did he feel like he wanted to.

Hermione's parents left to return home at around eight. By that time, then sun had already gone down, and the streetlamps had been turned on. The artificial lights were spaced far enough apart that the long stretches of embankment promenade in between them were dimly lit, and Harry could make out glimmering stars in the night sky.

They walked back to their hotel at a leisurely pace, not feeling any need to rush and relishing in the fact that after so many years of bleakness, they finally _could_ have the luxury of peace. Somewhere along the way, Hermione had taken Harry's hand – or vice versa – and neither, it seemed, wanted to let go.

Harry stole glances at her. She seemed to be lost in thought about…something. He could not help but notice the way her face scrunched up when she was thinking, or how she would occasionally bite her lips. He had seen her do this before in the seven-or-so years that he had known her, but recently, it seemed to provoke a different reaction in him altogether.

He loved her. There was nothing else that could describe the feelings that she provoked in him. Seeing the way her parents interacted simply made him sure of it. Harry had not known what to call it until now, but the word 'love' seemed to describe it well.

It was different from what he felt with Ginny – or did not feel. It was not based only on hormones and lust, but on something deeper. He did not 'love her like a sister', as he had told Ron that night, many months ago. He loved her, full stop. Wholeheartedly, even if he had not known it nor had wanted to admit to it at that time.

When they were two blocks away from the hotel, Lily's pocket mirror gave a small, magical chime. Harry looked over at his mother with a questioning look on her face. A fear suddenly rose up within him. Had something happened with Sirius?

'James called at the same time yesterday. I'm sure it's nothing too major. I'll apparate back to the hotel,' Lily decided, pulling the mirror out of her pocket. 'You two walk back the rest of the way. Take your time. I don't think it will big deal, really.'

With that, Lily ducked into a side alley and disapparated with a crack. Now, it was just Harry alone with Hermione as they walked into an otherwise empty waterfront park. Subconsciously, they began to walk slower. As they walked, Harry stared out at the black waters and at the silhouetted trees, but his mind was not taking in the sights. Their hands were still linked, their fingers entwined. The only thing Harry could think about was how soft and warm her skin was…

Harry had not realised that they had stopped walking, and were now standing still together, looking out at the quiet bay. The waves were softly lapping at the shore, the leaves were gently rustling in the wind, and the lights from the houses across twinkled like a second set of stars.

Hermione yawned. 'It's beautiful,' she whispered. 'I mean…the view's incredible during the day, too, but at night…it feels like you're seeing something hidden, something other people who don't bother coming out for a late walk wouldn't.'

Harry nodded, not sure if he was admiring the view, her words, the sound of her voice, or all three. 'It is beautiful,' he agreed.

They stood silently for many minutes. Hermione may as well as have been describing herself with those words, Harry thought. She was beautiful, but not just physically. She saw something more in him, no matter how much Harry could not believe that she did. She saw him somehow as more than a damaged survivor of a bloody conflict, not as the caricature of 'The Boy-Who-Lived', but rather as, somehow, just another seventeen-year-old…

'This reminds me a little of the Forest of Dean,' Hermione said quietly. 'Of the river…the quiet.'

'It…it does,' Harry said, slowly turning towards her. 'I still remember what you said back then…about how we should just stay there, just the two of us… Grow old…'

'I…uh…well, I mean…' Hermione sputtered. Harry could see in the dim artificial light the pretty pink tinge on her cheeks.

'If it had been any other time, I would've liked to as well,' he continued shyly. 'Just us…together, not needing to worry about anything else for the rest of our lives…'

There was a pregnant pause, and the two looked at each other in silence. 'You'd have wanted to?' Hermione finally asked in a tiny voice.

Harry swallowed. 'Well…not at that time, no…' he said, trying not to look at her but finding that his gaze was glued to hers. 'But…if you asked me today…I would.'

Hermione's lower lip quivered. 'You…you'd really spend…spend the rest of your life with…m-me?'

Harry gulped again, mustering all his courage. Strangely, not one part of him felt the urge to make up a lousy excuse and back out. This was his chance to tell her, let her know how much she really was to him. Tell her how much he loved her…

'Yes,' he answered, his voice barely above a whisper. 'There's no one else I'd rather…'

Hermione's eyes widened. 'Y-You – '

'Yes,' Harry said. 'I…I…I love you.'

Harry saw Hermione's eyes widen. 'You…you l-love…me?' she whispered back, blinking hard. 'Harry…what you said e-earlier…about how you…you'll still…'

'I…yes. I meant that. I…I understand if you d-don't feel – '

'No, Harry. I…I do. Of course I do,' Hermione interrupted quietly, leaning in so close that Harry could feel her breath on his lips. 'I've…I've always loved you, Harry… I just…didn't know h-how much…until now…'

Simultaneously, and with little hesitation, they leaned in towards each other. Their lips met, gently at first, then more passionately as they melted into the kiss. A euphoria washed over Harry, but it was nothing like the chest monster that he had felt when he had kissed Ginny. Rather, it was something softer, more subtle, but at the same time, something far stronger and far more beautiful.

Eons passed before they broke apart, panting. Harry felt light-headed, either from lack of oxygen or from the knowledge that he had just kissed Hermione. _He had just kissed Hermione_.

It was more than just a kiss, though. She felt the same way. She loved _him_.

Harry looked into her eyes, brown and beautiful and filled with affection. 'Does this mean that we're…we're…'

'If you want us to be,' Hermione replied with a shy smile.

'Of course I do.'

'Then so do I.'

Their lips met again in a second gentle kiss under the star-studded sky.

* * *

Lily apparated into the hotel room, quickly kicked off her shoes, and sat down on her bed. She flipped open the mirror. 'Answer,' she whispered.

James's face appeared in the mirror, but he did not bear a smile on his face. 'Did something happen?' Lily asked, suddenly worried. 'Is Sirius okay?'

'Sirius is okay, Lily,' James answered quickly, but not exactly reassuringly.

Lily furrowed her brows. 'You look like you're worried about something. Did it not go well?'

James shook his head, and Lily saw him plop down on a sofa. 'It went better than it did yesterday,' he replied with a sigh. 'He was more in control of himself when I asked him to recount what happened that night.'

'That's good, then,' Lily said, feeling a small, hopeful smile coming over her face. What James was doing was working, so why did he look like something grave was troubling him?

'It's good, yeah,' James replied, sounding a little absent. 'But…the thing is…I don't think staying in this house is helping him.'

'This house? You mean…Grimmauld Place?'

James nodded grimly. 'I mean Grimmauld Place.' He sighed, looking morose. 'He had an outburst today…about how he feared this house even more than he feared Pettigrew. He said something about "all the shit his mother put him through" and something about Snape taunting him… I think just being in this house is hurting him.'

Lily swallowed. 'We'll have to move him, then.'

James nodded solemnly.

'Shite,' Lily swore under her breath. 'It might be best to move into the muggle world...there'll be less magic going on…less that could trigger something in him…'

'I don't know,' James countered. 'It might be good to expose him to magic…in smaller doses, but have him be around magic nonetheless. He'll need to learn to confront it one way or another…unless he wants to leave the magical world entirely and live the rest of his life as a muggle.'

'Doesn't mean we move him into Diagon Alley or wherever,' Lily said. 'We could move him into a muggle house, but still have things like the Floo, or magical appliances and furniture. The thing is…we'll need to _get_ a muggle house. Do you have any idea how to do that?'

James shook his head. 'You know I don't, Lily.'

'Fuck…I'll need to get back as soon as possible, then,' Lily muttered. 'The tickets home are on the – '

'Actually, I had another idea,' James said, cutting across her.

Lily raised an eyebrow. 'What were you thinking?'

'Bring him to Australia.'

It took Lily a minute to process that. 'You want to…bring him here? Is he strong enough to travel, even?'

'He's not physically invalid, so I don't see why he _couldn't_ travel,' James replied pensively. 'It might help him, Lily. It would get him out of the house, let him spend more time with us and Harry, and maybe being a tourist could help him take his mind off things a little…help him recover between the sessions.'

Lily nodded slowly. 'You might be right,' she said quietly. 'It's worth a try, at the very least. And I'm sure Harry would love it.'

'He would.'

'How will you bring him?'

'International Portkey?' James proposed. 'I can ask Kingsley to get us one.'

Lily nodded decisively. 'You should get on it as quickly as you can, then. Let's not leave Sirius in that house for longer than we absolutely have to.'

'I'll go to the Ministry right after we finish,' James affirmed. 'Is everything okay with you?'

'Everything's fine,' Lily replied. 'Good, even. Hermione restored her parents' memories earlier today. It's been an emotional day for both her and Harry. You should go now, James. Go early before Kingsley's office gets swarmed by visitors.'

'You're right. I'll head there now,' James said. 'Love you.'

'Love you, too.'

Lily closed the mirror and breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever James had been doing with Sirius was yielding results – or at least it seemed like it was, based off what he was saying. Maybe, just maybe, he could succeed in doing what no magical healer could. Maybe, he could even help Harry and Hermione…

Her mind suddenly wandered back to the previous night. She had woken up at one, wanting to use the bathroom. On her way back, she had heard a whimper coming from the bed that Harry and Hermione shared. She had went to investigate, and found that her son was clutching Hermione tightly, as if his life depended on it. He had been making random twitching motions with his arms and legs. Lily did not need to be an expert to know that he had been having a nightmare.

Hermione had said that they clung to one another and helped each other through their memories…but was it enough, if they were still obviously suffering like this? Were they truly all right, or were they simply hiding the fact that they were not? Could James perhaps help them, too?

Lily's thoughts were interrupted when the hotel room door opened several minutes later. In stepped Harry and Hermione, looking…content. Their arms were around each other, their faces were slightly pink, and they wore satisfied smiles on their faces. Lily examined her son more closely. She could see that his lips were slightly puffy.

It did not take a genius to know what had just happened.

Lily beamed at them. So many good things seemed to have happened today. 'Well, congratulations,' she said warmly.

Both of them blushed even harder. 'Congratulations on…on what?' Harry asked, obviously feigning ignorance.

'Let's see…arms around each other, huge blushes…satisfied grins,' Lily teased, tapping her fingers as if going down a checklist. 'Oh, and you don't think I noticed those lips, Harry?'

'I…uh…I didn't think…'

'Oh, don't think you can play this game with me, Harry,' Lily said in a mock stern voice. 'I was a Prefect. I used to see through the excuses of the people I pulled out of broom closets in a split second.'

Harry's mouth dropped open, and Lily laughed heartily. 'Well, you have my congratulations. It's about time, I say.'

'Uh…thanks, Mum,' Harry replied in a tiny voice. 'And…you're right…it's about time…'

With that, Harry leaned into Hermione and placed a shy kiss on her lips. They broke apart, both blushing wildly. Lily felt a sudden urge to clap, but suppressed it, knowing that it was cheesy and silly. That did not stop her from being happy for them, however, a feeling that was reflected in a smile so wide that it almost hurt.

'What did…what did Dad say?' Harry asked, looking eager to change the subject.

Lily wanted to tease them a bit more, but decided to go along with it. 'Sirius said that he was feeling…oppressed…in Grimmauld Place,' she answered, her voice turning serious. 'He told James that every moment spent in the place brought back memories.'

Harry's blush instantly faded, to be replaced by a mortified expression. 'I…I didn't remember…didn't think… It's all my fault,' he gasped. 'I…I should've realised how much he hated that house when I p-proposed that – '

'No. None of this is your fault,' Lily objected firmly. She would not let her son believe that, not let him pile blame on himself for nothing. 'You needed to give us a place to live, and it was the best thing you could come up with.'

'But he could've – '

'Don't beat yourself up over it,' Lily advised. 'It wasn't the best thing for him, but it's not your fault. You did the best you can. This is something Sirius needs to work through.'

'Are they moving out of Grimmauld Place, then?' Hermione asked, trying to move the conversation on.

'James is going to get him out as soon as he can,' Lily replied. 'And…he'll bring him here.'

'Here?' Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. Suddenly, a cautious smile began to creep across his face. 'You mean…Dad and Sirius…they'll come here…to Australia?'

'That's exactly what I meant,' Lily said. 'James thought it'll get him out of the house, get his mind off things a little. I thought you might like it, too.'

Harry's smile widened. 'Like it? Of course I do! It was…our original plan, I mean. When're they coming?'

'They might be here by tomorrow evening.'

Harry beamed and threw his arms around Hermione in joy. Lily watched with a content and giddy feeling in her heart as he kissed her again. So much had happened, but if today was any indication, the world would right itself again in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enormous thank-you's to Aani and maschl, without whose help this chapter would have been nowhere near as polished.
> 
> Important: James knows about as much as I know about PTSD and how to treat it (possibly at this point, a little more). He is not supposed to be a perfect therapist or even a good one. He is someone who is trying his best to help a friend in a world with no conception of mental health (remember that 'mind healers' are purely fanon) and where going to a muggle psychologist is completely out of the question for obvious reasons of Statute of Secrecy and believability.
> 
> If you or someone you know is suffering from PTSD or any mental health condition, please do not take this story as a guide or even a suggestion on how to treat it! Unlike the wizarding world, in the regular world, there are resources available that can help you. Please take care, especially during these recent times.


	10. Our Destination

The next morning, Harry was awoken bright and early by the alarm clock. He groggily reached over and slammed his hand down on the snooze button, silencing the jarring sound, before sliding his arm back under the covers and around Hermione's waist.

'Mmm,' Hermione moaned sleepily, shifting a little in his arms. She felt so warm, both physically and the feeling that she put into his heart. 'I don't want to get up.'

'Neither do I,' Harry whispered back, but it was not out of a reluctance to face the world. Rather, he just wanted to be here with her…he could stay here for the rest of his life, just the two of them, snuggled in this position, and he would be content.

So they did. They still had some time before they absolutely _had_ to get up, after all. Harry pulled her tighter to him, and she reciprocated in kind. He let himself take in how the shape of her felt against every millimetre of his body, not bothering to suppress those thoughts any longer.

After half an hour that felt like seconds, she finally decided that they had to get moving. 'We'll be late,' she murmured into his chest. 'Lily will get ideas about what we're up to.'

Harry chuckled, and he did not even feel himself blush. The artificial wall inhibiting that part of his psyche had come crashing down, and all the thoughts about Hermione that he had previously forbidden himself from having had come rushing out. Weirdly, they did not serve to make things awkward between them, but only increased their comfort. It felt so natural, like it was all an obvious extension of their bond.

He reluctantly pushed back the covers and sat up, pulling Hermione up with him as she clung to his chest and shoulders. Finally, she looked up at him, her hair wilder than usual and a faint pink blush on her cheeks.

Harry leaned in and kissed her, relishing in the fact that he now could. The kiss was gentle, unhurried, like they had the rest of their lives to do this. For all intents and purposes, Hermione was the first girl that he had ever _kissed_. All of his other kisses had really just been hormone-driven _snogs_. There was nothing like the love and affection that they both now poured into their joined lips.

They pulled back simultaneously. 'Good morning,' Hermione whispered, a gentle smile on her face.

Instantly, Harry felt that smile mirrored on his face. 'Good morning to you,' he breathed back, leaning in and pecking her on the lips again.

With some reluctance, they unravelled themselves from each other's arms and went to get ready. They got dressed, both just pulling on their usual shirt and jeans. Harry thought that she looked stunning, even when she did not put any effort into her appearance at all.

The two of them left their room and descended into the lobby to meet Lily. She had moved to a new suite that they had booked at the last minute in anticipation of James and Sirius's arrival – not that Harry complained about the privacy he and Hermione were now afforded. It was not that they had necessarily _done_ anything yet, but more about the feeling of comfort and intimacy he felt when it was just them alone.

Lily beamed when she saw them. 'Had a good night's sleep?' she asked, hugging both Harry and Hermione.

'Pretty good,' Hermione replied. 'How about you?'

'Not bad,' Lily replied, sounding upbeat. 'Breakfast?'

Harry nodded. 'Breakfast.'

They ended up returning to the café where they had eaten the previous morning. Harry could not help himself but indulge in some retrospection. If he had known then, that that very night, Hermione was going to go from his best friend to something far greater than he had ever thought was possible…

Filled up, the three of them boarded a bus and headed across the bay to meet Hermione's parents. They greeted them warmly, and even though the faint undercurrent of tension from the previous day still there, it seemed to have lessened overnight. Helen gave each of them a hug, while Josh shook Harry's and Lily's hands.

'Ready to set off?' Helen asked, throwing a basket of food and several bottles of water into the boot.

Hermione eagerly nodded, and they piled into the car as they headed south to a town that Hermione's parents said was called 'Kettering'. Hermione's parents updated them on their plans – apparently, they had decided to sell their practice and return to the UK, but Harry was not paying much attention. He spent most of the ride looking out the window at the hills, forests, and the sea, holding Hermione's hand and feeling her thumb draw small circles in the back of his.

They arrived an hour later in a small, quiet town by the sea. Hermione ducked into a shop and purchased a map before her parents drove over to the terminal, purchased tickets, and got onto the car ferry.

The ship set off with a loud blast of its horns, and they quickly crossed the short stretch of water between the mainland and the island. When they docked at the other side, they patiently waited their turn to disembark. When they finally drove off the ship, Helen pulled over to the side of the road and Hermione leaned forward, opening the map that she had purchased and holding it between them.

Hermione pointed to a narrow strip of land in the middle of the island. 'This is where we should go,' she decided. Harry squinted at the picture accompanying it. It looked like it had been taken on a hill of some sort, sandwiched between two long beaches. 'It's called "The Neck". It's about twenty minutes' drive away.'

They all agreed and set off, driving on a narrow road along the coast, and Harry once again mutely stared out the window, holding Hermione's hand. In no time at all, they were there. Helen parked the car right by a long, golden beach, and Harry got out first. The sun was shining down brilliantly, and the azure waves were crashing symphonically against the shore. On three sides, the beach was bounded by green, shrubbed hills. There was a wooden footpath a short distance away that led to an observation deck of some kind.

'Harry!' Hermione's voice jerked him out of his reverie. She bounded up to him, a beautiful, beaming smile on her face that made Harry's heart race.

'Come on,' she said, pulling him by the hand. 'Let's go up to the deck.'

Hermione led – or in Harry's case, tugged – them up the wooden steps. As Harry climbed, he caught whiffs of the sea breeze. It was refreshing and intoxicating at the same time, and combined with the sensation of Hermione's hand in his, gave him a sense of exhilaration.

They reached the top after a short climb, and Harry looked out at the view presented before him. Just like in the picture on the map, the narrow strip of land they were standing on was flanked on either side by long, thin, golden beaches. To his left was a wide aquamarine channel between the island and the mainland, and to his right, the boundless deep blue sea.

Hermione stepped closer to Harry as Lily and her parents stepped up onto the deck behind them. He almost did not notice their presence, however. The only thing in the world that seemed real, physical in that moment was her. He wrapped his arm around her waist. She leaned her head on his neck, and he leaned his head against hers. She gave a contented sigh, and he squeezed her gently, causing her to lean in even closer to his side.

Harry looked out over the isthmus, at how the narrow strip of land widened, bounded on either side by the sea, broke free and widened out, expanding on either side, tracing out graceful curves. The green, wooded hills in the distance contrasted beautifully with the blue, sunlit sky. It was all so beautiful, both at a glance and deeper down, but nothing would ever be as beautiful as the girl who stood with him, who had always stood with him.

It seemed like they had arrived, both literally and metaphorically, at their destination at the end of a long, winding, and obstacle-strewn road. There was nowhere else that he wanted to be, and certainly not without Hermione by his side, and him, by hers. It really seemed like they had reached their destination…

* * *

The sun was barely up when James got out of bed that morning. He needed to get ready for their last-minute trip – and that was on top of all the other things that he needed to do. He went down into the kitchen and grabbed one of the rucksacks that he had purchased and enchanted the previous day off the sofa. He opened it and saw that it was empty. It was his.

He had not had even a sliver of a chance to pack his own things the previous evening. Getting International Portkeys on such short notice had been a chore in and of itself. Kingsley had been forced to directly Floo call the Australian Ministry to arrange it for them after the Portkey Office had flatly – and rather rudely – rebuffed his request, and James had a sneaking suspicion that the Australians had only approved it because of the fact that he was Harry Potter's father.

Kreacher was not up and out and about, and James was not about to force him awake, so he fixed himself a quick breakfast of several slices of toast and a cup of tea. He all but swallowed them whole before grabbing his rucksack and heading upstairs.

He opened the door to his room and threw a couple of items of each type into his bag. A few shirts, a few pairs of trousers, and some socks and boxers. Most of them were completely unworn. Lily had picked them out when they had gone shopping with Harry and Hermione the week before, and he had had been so busy with everything else that he had not looked at them since.

He reached into his drawer and got out his muggle passport and wallet, sliding them into the top compartment of his bag. They were travelling magically, sure, but it was better to be prepared than be sorry if something did end up happening that required him to have muggle identification and money.

He looked around the room, trying to figure out if he had missed anything. He then went to the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush, throwing it in his bag sandwiched between two new socks. It was how he had always done it at Hogwarts, and old habits die hard.

Finally, with everything packed and ready, he looked over at the clock. It was just before seven. Sirius might be up by now – he had always been a light sleeper, and doubly so with all that he was dealing with – but James decided to give him some time to himself. He did not want to force him to go through another one of the sessions so soon after he had woken up from a doubtlessly fitful sleep.

James returned downstairs into his library, which had become his hideout, his second home, the place where he could research deep into the night. On the desk was a stack of books so high that they reached the level of his neck. The surface was littered with sheets and sheets of disorganised notes – he never was as good at organisation as Lily, who would have had them all arranged into neat little piles a long time ago. On the ground were crumpled up balls of parchment, reminders of how many times he had gone down the wrong track and had needed to start his research anew.

He considered what he should take. He would need his notes, of course, in case something came up and he needed his references. He conjured a muggle filing folder and tried to file his notes away in as organised a fashion as he could. To his shock but unsurprise, he had taken far more notes than he thought he had, and he was forced to conjure a second folder just to squeeze the rest in.

James slid the two folders into his bag, then turned to the books. He had distilled them down well enough in his notes, he thought, but it would not hurt to bring one or two, just in case. He looked down the stacks, trying to find any that jumped out at him as being particularly important. To his untrained mind, however, all of them seemed equally important and unimportant at the same time.

Finally, he settled on two journal anthologies and an introductory text on psychotherapy. It had been the two books that he had gotten the most out of, and if he had ever needed to look up something, these three were the first ones he went to. It seemed, then, like a good idea to bring them along.

Everything gathered, he climbed up the stairs to Sirius's room and knocked on the door.

'Come on in,' he heard Sirius say in a fatigued voice.

Sirius was laying down on his bed, his head propped up on the pillows. James entered and surveyed him for a moment. His countenance looked a little more vibrant than yesterday, but it was by no means bright. His bed was made and his room was tidied again, and the smell of alcohol had decreased in intensity again with the passage of another day.

'Morning,' Sirius greeted, quite flatly.

'Morning,' James replied. 'How're we doing?'

Sirius snorted. 'What do you think after two days of…that? "Not awful", maybe.'

'Not awful is better than awful,' James muttered, taking a seat.

Sirius shrugged. 'So when're we leaving? Aren't we going to see Harry today?'

'Our Portkey is at nine-fifty,' James answered. 'We'll leave in an hour and a half. For right now – '

'Are we doing it again?' Sirius asked, his voice laced with dread.

James nodded. 'We have to, Sirius. We'll need to keep doing this until you're better.'

Sirius sighed. 'And what if I don't get better?' he asked morosely, his voice quiet.

'Then…we'll find another way,' James replied, looking him right in the eyes. 'One way or another, we'll work this out, Sirius.'

Sirius eyed him warily for several long minutes. 'Why do you care so much?' he breathed finally, his features collapsing.

James blinked in surprise. Sirius had not meant that in a cutting way – or at least he thought – but that did not mean that his word choice did not sound accusatory to him, like he was perhaps doubting James's intentions behind trying to help him. James swallowed, trying not to let it get to him. Sirius was not his old self. He was suffering an illness, and this was just a side effect of that.

James took a deep breath. 'I care, Sirius, because you were my first friend,' he said frankly and seriously. 'You were the best man at my wedding, you were Harry's godfather. You're the only one left from the Marauders. You're the last of the family that I had grown up with, mate. I can't stand aside and do nothing when I know that you're dealing with all the shit that you're dealing with.'

That statement alone seemed to lift Sirius's mood. His face brightened slightly but noticeably, and some life was, almost by magic, breathed back into his eyes. Sirius opened his mouth, perhaps wanting to say something, but ended up remaining silent and nodding.

'Are you ready to continue?' James asked a few seconds later.

Sirius sighed. His expression turned dejected again, but the new life in his eyes did not seem to fade. 'Yes, I am,' he muttered.

James produced a piece of parchment and a pencil. 'Before we start…from one to a hundred, how much do you fear the memory of what happened that night today?'

Sirius stared out into space pensively. 'Thirty-five,' he decided after a while.

James jotted that down. He had given forty the previous day. A decrease of five…that definitely seemed like progress.

'Well, then, Sirius, could you recount for me what happened that night with Pettigrew? Remember, the key is to visualise – '

'I know,' Sirius interrupted impatiently, and he launched into the story yet again. Even as he began, James could hear that his speaking was getting fluid, his tone less frightened. It seemed, at a glance, at least, like the 'therapy' that he was giving him was yielding effects, but James put out that feeling. It was still far too early to tell, and there was still far more work to be done.

Sirius finished his recount and looked up. His face was pale, but not deathly so. His pupils were wide, but his irises could still be seen. He was hugging himself a little, but not trembling. The expression on his face was a little frantic, but far more focused than it had been the last two times.

'How do you feel?' James ventured to ask.

'Bearable.'

'Compared to yesterday?' James pressed, unsure of this was a proper question to ask, but letting his curiosity get the best of him.

Sirius shrugged. 'The same.'

'Maybe a little bit better,' he added a few seconds later.

'That's good,' James said, letting the gladness show in his voice. 'See, Sirius, we can get through this. You can get better.'

'Maybe,' Sirius murmured. 'But this is only the first stage, isn't it?'

'There'll be more…difficult challenges ahead, yes,' James replied carefully. 'But…think of it this way, Sirius. You'll be getting out of the house today. You'll see Harry. You'll be in sunny Australia. It won't be like this every day, holed up in this house.'

'Don't remind me,' Sirius muttered darkly.

'I just mean that we've made so much progress as it is,' James insisted. 'With a change of scenery…with you being able to see Harry every day…who knows, things could improve even more.'

Sirius chuckled weakly. 'Now I just want to go to Australia.'

'Well, we will in an hour,' James said, standing up. Sirius, for the first time, got off the bed without prompting. 'We'll have some breakfast first before we head to the Ministry, come on.'

Half an hour later, after having eaten a light breakfast – Portkey travel was dizzying even for the shortest of journeys – James and Sirius grabbed their things and Flooed directly into Kingsley's office. James had not yet gotten reacquainted to Floo travel, and he lost his balance upon arriving, hitting his head against the mantelpiece.

The Minister was in, and he looked up at the two new arrivals with a snort. 'Careful, Potter,' he admonished in a Prefect voice. 'You'll damage the furnishings.'

'My head might be thick, but it's not thick enough for that,' James replied, mock defensively.

'Yeah, we'll see about that,' Kingsley said. 'You can take your Portkey from Level Six, at the International Portkey Office. It'll drop you off at the Ministry of Magical Affairs in Canberra, and you'll go by Floo down to Hobart. Hopefully without hitting your head again.'

James gave him the evil eye, but thanked him and lead Sirius into the lifts and took it up to Level Six. Thanks to the fact that they had come during the morning rush, the lift stopped on nearly every floor to pick up and drop off passengers, and it took several long minutes to arrive at their floor.

He had been to this part of the Ministry exactly once before, so he found himself a bit lost. The signs were not helpful, either, as they only pointed to office numbers and wings. Finally, after asking three or four witches and wizards – many of whom acting rather irascible at being inconvenienced – and backtracking twice, they finally found where they were supposed to go.

They arrived only five minutes short of the Portkey's scheduled departure. Thankfully, there was no line at the International Portkey office, and they were called right up by a small, frizzy-haired wizard.

'Name?' he asked, sounding bored.

'James Potter and Sirius Black.'

The wizard looked at them with an astonished expression, but quickly arranged his features and got out a sheet of parchment and a quill, filling it out at lightning speed. 'James Potter…Potter…Black,' he muttered under his breath, sounding awed. 'Canberra, Australia…'

James was already beginning to feel uncomfortable when finally, the wizard finished filling out his paperwork. He opened a drawer and pulled out an old mirror. 'This is your Portkey,' he recited. 'It will leave at nine-fifty and take you to the Ministry of Magical Affairs in Canberra. The journey time will be approximately three minutes. When the Portkey begins to glow blue, grab onto it and hold on tightly. If you let go before you arrive, you will suffer serious injuries or even death.'

On that cheerful note, he handed them the mirror and paperwork. 'Departure Stall Six is right outside this office to your right. That is where your Portkey will leave from. Once you arrive, give this form to the arrivals officer and return your Portkey to the local Portkey Office.'

James thanked him and hurriedly left the room. He turned right as the wizard had instructed and opened the small wooden door. The 'room' – if it could be called that – beyond was a tiny, cramped space, lit only by a single dim lamp. Sirius stepped in after him, his blank expression replaced by one of cautious anticipation.

The Portkey started glowing blue, and Sirius grabbed on to it. A few seconds later, James felt a jerk behind his navel. The stall disappeared around him, and he felt himself being pulled into a dizzying tunnel.

The sensation dragged on for far longer than it would have if they had taken a shorter-distance Portkey. The wizard back at the Ministry had mentioned that the journey would take three minutes. James did not have a watch, and he did not know how much time had elapsed. Surely it must have been three minutes now.

It felt like at least ten 'three minutes' had elapsed when his feet finally hit solid ground. The dizziness vanished, as did the pull behind his navel. He blinked, trying to orient himself. He was standing in a wide, open space. It was night, but the artificial lighting gave a natural, airy feel to the place. Unlike the constricted-feeling Ministry, the building that they were in felt breathable and rather pleasant.

'Nine-fifty from London, United Kingdom?' came a voice from behind him, speaking in a distinctive accent.

James turned around and nodded at the witch. 'Portkey, please,' she asked, holding out her hand. James handed the mirror over to her, and she threw it in a collection bin. 'Documents, please.' James handed over the form that the wizard had filled out back at the Ministry.

The witch scrutinised it. 'James Potter and Sirius Black?' she asked. Both James and Sirius nodded, and the witch's eyes widened. 'H-Heard about you, of course…it was in our papers, too…how?'

James shrugged, suppressing a sigh. He did not want to talk about it, least of all with a witch that he did not even know the name of. 'We don't know,' he replied curtly, eager to get off the topic. 'Our final destination is Hobart. How do we get there?'

The witch looked a little miffed at the dismissal of her inquiry, but got on with her job. 'Uh…you go across the lobby,' she answered. 'There'll be a bank of Floos…the workers there will tell you what to do.'

'Thank you,' James said. 'Is there anything else you need?'

'N-No, nothing else. Have a good day and welcome to Australia, Mister P-Potter.'

James turned away from the witch, Sirius behind him. They walked through the mostly empty halls of the Australian magical government, its employees having returned home hours ago. The building here had far more helpful signs than the ones in Britain, that was for sure, and they were able to locate the main lobby in no time.

Only one night shift worker was on duty at the Floo grates in the main hall, and James made his way over to him.

'How may I help you?' the wizard asked with a yawn when he saw James approach.

'We've just arrived from London,' James explained. 'Our final destination is Hobart…how do we get there?'

The wizard nodded. 'Step up to the Floo and throw a pinch of powder in. The Floos here work the same way as in Britain. The destination you want is "The Tasmanian Devil".' He consulted some sort of chart pinned on the wall. 'That'll be one Galleon and three Sickles each.'

James dug out his magical money pouch and paid for both of them, then walked up to one of the Floos and threw a pinch of powder in. 'Sirius, you go first. The Tasmanian Devil.'

Sirius walked gingerly up to the Floo and stepped in. The fire whooshed, and Sirius disappeared. James threw another pinch of powder in and followed through after him. A second later, he landed in a dingy but lively pub that reminded him somewhat of the Leaky Cauldron.

Sirius had already arrived, and was standing next to the Floo. He had an inscrutable expression on his face, nervousness mingled with anticipation. 'Come on,' James said quietly, guiding Sirius towards the door.

They stepped out onto the street in what appeared to be the centre of the city. It was quiet at this hour, and very few cars or pedestrians were out and about. James suddenly felt lost. Not only was he in the muggle world, which he was not too skilled in navigating in to begin with, he was also in a foreign country and unfamiliar city, and had no idea where he should even be heading.

He approached a man standing at what looked to be a bus stop. 'Excuse me,' he began, feeling timid and nervous. 'Do you…uh…do you know where Parliament House Gardens are?'

The man looked up at him. 'Walk down the street that way,' he replied, pointing to his left. 'Turn right at the second intersection – Murray Street – and walk to the end of the road, where it meets Morrison Street. It'll be on your right.'

James nodded, repeating the directions in his head to memorise them. 'Thank you,' he said. The man nodded, and James returned to Sirius, beginning to lead him down the road. He counted two intersections, then turned right as the man instructed. James suddenly picked up the scent of the sea, a sort of refreshing saltwater smell that relaxed him. He stole a glance over at Sirius, and it appeared that he had scented it, too.

They walked down to the end of the street, and on the right was a small park of sorts. That must have been the Parliament House Gardens where Lily had arranged to meet them. He and Sirius walked through the gate, eyes on the lookout for her.

'James!' called a voice from his left. James's head snapped around. Lily was sitting on one of the benches, waving at him. He rushed over, a smile on his face at the sight of his wife. Opposite her sat Harry, instantly recognisable by the distinctive hair that resembled his own, and his arm was around a brown-haired girl, who was snuggling into the crook of his neck.

James fought a sudden urge to laugh. Clearly, despite all their denial of the very obvious fact that they were a couple – even if not in name – his son and Hermione had gotten together in the end. James expected nothing else, of course, even from the first day that he had met them. They reminded him so much of him and Lily…besides the whole awkward 'hating one another for six years' thing.

'James! You're here!' Lily squeaked, throwing her arms around him and kissing him.

James raised an eyebrow 'Where did you think I'd end up in? Argentina?'

'It's not implausible,' Lily said, putting on a false serious voice. 'Seeing the way trouble seems to find you…'

'Excuse me, I'm the one who goes out looking for trouble,' James chortled.

Lily rolled her eyes at him and went to hug Sirius. 'How is everything, Padfoot?' she asked quietly.

Sirius's face grew blank. 'Fine,' he replied. 'As fine as they can be.'

Lily nodded solemnly. She stepped aside, and Harry walked up to them, his arm still around Hermione's waist. 'Hello, Sirius,' he greeted cautiously.

Sirius smiled. It was not a wide smile, but it was far more genuine than any that James had seen come across his face in these last few weeks – the expression seemed to come from deep within his soul. He stepped forward and gave Harry a quick squeeze, then Hermione. 'Good evening, you two,' he said, a hint of true happiness bleeding through in his voice.

Hermione smiled back at him. 'Good evening, Sirius.' She looked like she wanted to follow up with some question about how he was doing, but Harry shot her a look that clearly indicated that he thought that this was not the time. Hermione replied with a tiny nod and chose not to voice her question.

'Did you eat?' Lily asked, directing the conversation away from a potentially touchy subject.

'A small breakfast,' James replied. 'I'm not really hungry, though. Portkey travel doesn't do wonders for appetite.'

Lily exaggerated a shudder. 'No, it doesn't. Sirius are you hungry?'

'Me neither.'

'We'll go back to the hotel, then,' Lily decided. 'We had some leftovers from dinner, so…if you get hungry in the middle of the night, you'll be fine.'

'Sounds good.'

Lily smiled again and began to lead them out of the park back to their hotel, James bringing up the rear. He watched Harry as they walked. He and Hermione were holding hands, and every so often, one of them would look over at the other with a small smile, which the other would return. They seemed to say things without words, simply looks of unfiltered affection. He had known that the two of them were comfortable around each other, that they did things in subconscious sync, but this took it to a whole new level altogether. If James had been fifteen again, he would have found this all sappy to watch, and perhaps made fun of them with retching noises and disgusted expressions.

They reached the hotel, and Lily produced two keys and handed one each to James and Sirius. 'Harry booked us a suite,' she said quietly. 'There'll be room to spare for all three of us.'

'And I'm sure some privacy for the two of them isn't exactly hurting them?' James snarked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry and Hermione heard that, and they both blushed bright pink. Harry opened his mouth, evidently wanting to say something in protest, but nothing managed to come out.

James chuckled. 'I remember when Lily and I first – '

He was interrupted by a smack on his arm and a death glare from Lily. 'Anyway…' James immediately backpedalled, not wanting to receive his wife's wrath for the sake of making a dirty joke, 'Thank you for arranging all this…all of you.'

Harry swallowed, his blush receding slightly, and he exchanged a significant look with Hermione. 'There's…there's no need to thank us. We're all family, right?'

James looked around him, at Sirius, at his wife, and at his son and possible future daughter-in-law, and nodded slowly. They had been parted by circumstance and fate, who had so cruelly taken away their chance to _be_ a family for all these years. Yet, at the end of it all, they _were_ indeed all family, no matter what happened, and there was nothing that James could feel more grateful for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enormous thank-you's to Aani and maschl, without whose help this chapter would have been nowhere near as polished.
> 
> Important: James knows about as much as I know about PTSD and how to treat it (possibly at this point, a little more). He is not supposed to be a perfect therapist or even a good one. He is someone who is trying his best to help a friend in a world with no conception of mental health (remember that 'mind healers' are purely fanon) and where going to a muggle psychologist is completely out of the question for obvious reasons of Statute of Secrecy and believability.
> 
> If you or someone you know is suffering from PTSD or any mental health condition, please do not take this story as a guide or even a suggestion on how to treat it! Unlike the wizarding world, in the regular world, there are resources available that can help you. Please take care, especially during these recent times.


	11. Illusions End

They spent the rest of that week around Hobart while Hermione's parents busied themselves with finding a buyer for their home and practice on a short schedule. Harry had gone and contacted Kingsley to seek help in moving the Grangers' possessions by magic, and two days later, two wizards from the Australian Portkey Registry showed up at their home and brought away the first of their boxes.

Lily, James, and even Sirius all seemed to be in good spirits. Sirius did not laugh or joke around as much as he used to, but when he did crack the odd quip or give the rare smile, it seemed to be much deeper, more sincere, and come from more his heart, like he was actually embodying these emotions, rather than just trying to put on a show for others' sake.

Harry, meanwhile, had never been happier. It seemed that everything he had ever wished for had fallen into place. The war, the pain seemed to be all behind him. He had his mother, his father, and Sirius – though they felt more like older siblings to him than truly _parents_. And most importantly, he had Hermione. She was his, and he was hers, in every way imaginable.

If he looked into the Mirror of Erised right now, what would he see?

Helen and Josh closed the house and practice in the morning on the following Monday. The last boxes of their things were sent back to the UK via the Australian Ministry that evening, while Lily went and bought aeroplane tickets to head to Darwin, where apparently Hermione had wanted to catch a train to see the Australian desert.

Harry was excited when he woke up the following morning, so much so that he did not even feel the urge to linger in bed. He got up quickly, though not before exchanging a thorough good-morning kiss with Hermione. Even hurried mornings were magical when he woke up next to her, and he found that he could not even imagine how he had managed to miss what was right in front of him for all these years…

They met up with the adults in the entrance hall. Hermione's parents and Lily both looked excited, their faces filled with anticipation. James had a more serious expression on his face, and while Sirius looked slightly subdued. They must have just come out of one of their 'counselling sessions', Harry realised. Nevertheless, Sirius's countenance still looked far healthier than it had on the night that they had arrived.

'Ready to go, sweetheart?' Helen asked. The question was ostensibly directed at Hermione, but Harry could not help but feel like part of it was also directed towards him. Though he still thought that he perhaps ought not to, he was strangely comfortable with that feeling.

Hermione nodded. 'Let's go.'

They checked out of the hotel and made their way downtown, where they caught a bus that took them to the airport. James and Sirius, who had never seen an aeroplane before, looked almost as excited upon seeing one as Harry imagined Arthur Weasley would if faced with a similar situation.

When it was almost time to board, Lily distributed their boarding passes in an almost mother-like fashion. Harry slipped his inside his passport book, while Hermione looked hers over carefully.

Hermione looked at Lily, a puzzled expression on her face. 'The ticket you got…'

'Yes?' Lily asked. Judging by the expression on her face, she seemed to know what Hermione was asking about, but was carefully keeping it from showing through. 'What about it?'

'It says…First Class?' Hermione continued carefully. 'Did you…did you…'

Lily smiled mysteriously, an expression that she was disturbingly good at. 'Would you be mad at me if I said "yes"?'

Hermione gulped. 'I…no, of course not! But…there wasn't any – '

Lily shot a sideways glance at Helen. 'We…that is to say, your mother and I…we thought we should give you all a bit of a treat,' she replied slowly. 'It…well…it'll be a six-hour flight. I think we all deserve to spend it in comfort rather than in a cramped seat.'

'And if it makes you feel any better, we did contribute our fair share,' Helen added, looking up at Lily with a raised eyebrow. 'Despite all of Lily's protests.'

Hermione blinked, then chuckled shyly. 'Thanks, Mum, Lily.'

'Thank you,' Harry echoed.

Lily snorted. 'Well, if you want to be correct, I used _your_ money,' she said. 'So…you're thanking me for using your money to do something that you're now thanking me for. Well…thank you and you're welcome?'

The four of them all laughed at that, and they made light conversation until they were called to board. The gate agent did not make any comments about Harry and Hermione looking like a couple this time, but to be perfectly honest, Harry would not have minded if he did. The whole world, for all he cared, could know how lucky he was to be with such an incredible woman.

They proceeded down the jet bridge and settled into their seats in the first row. Lily and James took the seats behind them, Helen and Josh across from him, and Sirius, one of the seats across the aisle from James.

'So glad to _not_ be taking a Portkey,' Harry heard James mutter to Sirius, who gave a small chuckle in response. His mood seemed to have improved greatly even from the morning, and his face bore a wonderfully alive look.

The steward came around and handed out flutes of champagne. James jovially raised a toast, which everyone, Sirius included, joined in on – though Lily had forced him to take a glass of cola instead of champagne. Harry took a sip of the drink. It was sweet, though not overly so like mead. The bubbles tickled his tongue and made him snort, causing a little of it to go up his nose.

'Smooth,' Hermione quipped, giggling as Harry tried to blow the drink from his nose.

Harry tried to glare at her, but he felt an urge to laugh himself. Thus, for the next minute, he alternated between snorts of laughter and snorts from the discomfort of getting liquid up his nose. If anything, that just made Hermione laugh harder.

'Oh, Harry,' she said, mock exasperated. 'What am I going to do with you?'

Harry smirked at her. 'Keep smiling that smile?' he asked hopefully.

Hermione's smile widened. 'Just for you.'

'I don't think I can decide which one of you lovebirds makes me sicker,' Harry heard James snicker from the seat behind him. He turned around in his seat and glared at his father, succeeding this time. James just smirked at him in response and mimed a retching motion, for which he received a smack on the thigh from Lily.

The aeroplane pushed back from the gate and taxied out to the runway. Harry took Hermione's hand as the engines spun up for take-off – not that he needed much of an excuse to do that – and they lifted off into the air, the Tasmanian sea and countryside stretching out underneath them.

'This really is it,' Helen whispered to Josh across the aisle. 'We're going home.'

'Not so soon yet,' Josh replied. 'But…this is it for us here…'

Harry's ears popped as the aeroplane climbed to cruising altitude, and he stared out of the window intently, even through lunch. The green, mountainous island gave way to a wide strait, then, soon enough, the mainland appeared in the window.

'You keep staring out the window, you'll crick your neck,' Hermione chided good-naturedly.

Harry drew his sight away from the outside. 'Fine, then can I stare at you?'

Hermione snorted. 'That's a little creepy, Harry. Why don't we switch seats? You've sat by the window for long enough.'

Harry looked at her with what must have been a reluctant expression on his face, and she gave her best attempt at puppy-dog eyes. Harry snorted, trying not to let her cheap tactics get to him, but at the same time, he felt his defences crumble.

'Fine, an hour,' he grumbled, getting up.

He and Hermione switched seats, but he still tried his best to look out at the ground below, which was slowly turning from green to a light shade of yellow. He had to crane his neck to look over Hermione's shoulder, but eventually settled on leaning his chin on her shoulder, which she did not seem to mind one bit.

Eventually, even Harry tired of looking out at the window as the aeroplane crossed the barren red Outback. The reflected glare was even hurting his eyes a little. He ordered a cup of tea, then lowered his seatback and laid down, closing his eyes.

He had not intended to fall asleep, but the next thing he knew, Hermione was gently shaking him awake. He opened his eyes to find hers mere centimetres away. Harry felt his heart speed up a little. Those eyes were arguably the most beautiful sight one could wake up to…

'Sleepyhead,' she whispered teasingly. Some of her hair fell onto his face, pleasantly tickling him out of his grogginess. 'Time to wake up. We're half an hour out.'

Harry adjusted his seatback and sat up. He looked out the window. The sun was setting now, colouring the sky a beautiful golden-red. The ground below was dark in contrast with the sky, which only amplified the otherworldly feeling Harry got as he took in the scenery.

They descended into Darwin as the sun set, affording them a beautiful view as they lined up for touchdown. After an uncomfortable several seconds as the aeroplane slowed down on the runway, they began a short taxi into the terminal.

Having very little baggage besides a few backpacks, they disembarked quickly and got out of the terminal in less than fifteen minutes. They had to hail two different taxis to fit their party of seven, and after a short drive, they arrived in the small downtown.

After a quick dinner at a restaurant by the water, they retired to their hotel rooms, for everyone – except Harry, it seemed – were sore and fatigued after the long journey from one end of the country to the other. Harry and Hermione's room had a single bed and a small balcony. Hermione stepped out as Harry put down their things. The twilight sky was deep blue and cloudless. Over the sea in the distance, Harry could begin to see the twinkling of the first stars.

Harry stepped up to her, and she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. 'Remember that night we saved Sirius?'

Harry felt himself smile. 'How could I ever forget? You were amazing that night.'

That caused Hermione to blush slightly. 'So were you,' she breathed. She looked back out towards the sea. 'It was just like this…the sky…the stars… _you_ … I know I'm being silly – '

'Hermione, you could _never_ be silly,' Harry chided. He took a deep breath. 'That was the night when I realised that…that there was something more about you. That you were…you were something more than my best friend…' He paused to chuckle at his own silliness. 'Still took me four years to figure out what it was.'

'Took me four years, too,' Hermione said with a gentle smile on her face. 'Silly me.'

'Hermione, you could _never_ be silly,' Harry repeated, before gently pressing his lips to hers. She gave a squeak of surprise mingled with delight before she melted into the kiss.

Hermione pulled back, a mischievous look on her face. 'I', she pecked him on the lips, 'love,' again, 'you,' and again, 'so,' yet again, 'much.'

This time, she brought her lips down on his in a searing kiss. Harry nearly staggered in surprise. He had never felt such passion, such need, but also such love with anyone before in his life…

* * *

James woke up early the next morning, just as the sun was rising. He was sitting now on the wicker armchair on the balcony, looking out at the calm sea. He had been up for nearly an hour, and the sky above was somewhere between a pale gold and a light baby blue. The morning sea breeze blew through his hair, messing up his hair slightly as if he were on a broom.

Lily brought out a kettle of tea and took a seat next on his chair's armrest. Sirius, who was sitting on the chair opposite him, got up, perhaps to go to the bathroom.

James looked down at the slightly worn hotel writing pad that he had brought up with him from Hobart. On it were a list of numbers that would seem like nonsense to another eye, but to James, they told an important story. Forty, thirty-five, thirty, twenty-eight, twenty-four, nineteen…

Eight.

A drop of eleven points in one single day. If that was not a 'dramatic decrease', then what would be? These last few days, when he had had Sirius relive that night, he had seemed more comfortable. His trembling had decreased, the colour of his face had improved. It seemed like whatever James had been doing really was working.

'Do you think he's ready to move on?' Lily asked in a whisper.

'The numbers look like he can,' James replied pensively. 'But…I don't know if we're supposed to move on so soon. And plus, his other memories…they're far harder on him than the memory of that night.'

Lily nodded slowly. 'You don't think he can handle it?'

James sighed. 'I don't know. He seemed to handle this well, but I'm afraid that if we try to tackle something more…serious…he'll regress.'

The two of them thought silently for many moments. 'Well…you'll have to rip off the plaster eventually,' Lily said quietly. 'Sooner or later.'

'We will,' James agreed with a sigh. 'But…do you think this is the right time?'

They looked at each other blankly, knowing that neither had a good answer. Despite all the theory that James had read, he still knew painfully little about the right way to treat Sirius in practice.

'Whatever your judgement is, I trust it,' Lily said finally, patting him on the arm.

Sirius returned a minute later and sat down in his chair, looking out mutely at the sea. The sounds of the waves were faintly audible, and James noticed that Sirius subconsciously reacted to it. He seemed to sit up more stiffly in his chair, his eyes noticeably unfocused.

That seemed to make James's decision for him. Perhaps it was a bad idea to move on so quickly, but time mattered. Every day he waited was another day that Sirius would suffer. He flipped through his notes, looking for the ones that he had taken on their first day of doing this. He picked up a pencil and drew a little check mark next to ' _Pettigrew_ ' before looking further up the list.

 _The War_.

Unlike the section below, he had split up this one into several subsections. There were ' _Battles_ ', ' _Deaths_ ', and ' _Death Eater Terror_ '. Under each, he had written several example events that Sirius had given him. Ironically, the ones under the title of ' _Battles_ ' seemed to look the least ghastly. It was both a blessing and a curse that they had been born when they had, James thought grimly.

 _Light and explosions_ , he had scrawled down days ago. Suddenly, James felt slightly lost. How was he supposed to have Sirius recount his experiences in the war? They had not really seen much fighting besides several skirmishes, and none of them seemed noteworthy enough in his mind to be something Sirius would fear on its own.

'Which one are you looking at?' Lily asked quietly, seeming to be thinking along much the same lines. James pointed to the parchment, and Lily leaned in, reading it more carefully before looking back up at Sirius with an expression of thought on her face. 'At the Ministry…it was the explosions and the bright flashes, wasn't it?'

Sirius gulped, paling slightly at the memory. He nodded slowly, remaining resolutely silent.

'Maybe it would help to start exposing him to…sparks? Or create flashes of green or red with your wand?' Lily suggested, looking at James. 'And we could couple that with…noise? We can create blast-like sound effects magically…'

James nodded slowly and turned to Sirius, wanting his opinion. 'What do you think?' he asked cautiously.

Sirius shrugged, looking slightly resigned. 'How much worse can it be than what you had me do before?'

James swallowed, having no answer for that question. 'We'll just have to find out,' he murmured, perhaps quite unhelpfully.

Sirius shrugged again as James drew his wand. He turned to share a glance with Lily, who gave a small nod in affirmation. He raised his wand into the air and cast a quick soundproofing charm before flicking it slightly, letting off a cracking noise that sounded more like thunder than an explosion.

He looked at Sirius. His expression looked unchanged, though James could see that his pupils had dilated ever so slightly. 'How do you feel?' he asked.

'Normal,' Sirius replied. 'That…' He unexpectedly sighed and fell silent, looking out at the balcony.

'That's what?' James pressed, a reflex-driven part of his psyche suddenly thinking that he had been on the verge of saying something important.

Sirius sighed again. 'It was nothing.'

'It had to have been something,' James tried again. The alerts in his head were going off. He had a duty to get to the bottom of this, both in his capacity as Sirius's pseudo-therapist and as a friend.

Sirius stubbornly looked out at the bay, his lips pursed, not saying anything. James did not verbally push him again, but did not say anything, either, letting the heavy silence settle over them.

After several minutes, Sirius turned back towards James, a grim look on his face. 'Do you really want to know?' he breathed, his voice hoarse.

James nodded. 'Please, I _need_ to know.'

'You'll think I'm a little kid – '

'No, I won't,' James cut him off resolutely, feeling something like frustration mixed with confidence course through him. 'You were my first and best friend, Padfoot, my brother in all but blood. We've already worked through so much. _Nothing_ will make me think of you as anything but you.'

Sirius gulped, doubting himself for a moment before opening his mouth.

'The night terrors,' he croaked. 'They didn't sound…like that… It was always…more… Explosions and flashes of light from every direction…sometimes screams… It didn't sound like…like the sound you just produced.'

It took a second for James to absorb the information. He had guessed that Sirius had been suffering from nightmares, but Sirius had never once opened up about them, not even to him during their sessions. When he finally processed what Sirius had said, his brain began working in overdrive, trying to think of what to make of it, what he could do with it. He looked at Sirius searchingly, silently asking if he could tell him anything else. To his surprise, his expression seemed to have…brightened. Somehow. He did not reply to his silent query, however.

James had read about _in vivo_ exposure in his texts, and he replayed what Sirius had said in his head, trying to think of how he could apply what he had read about. _Explosions and flashes of light from every direction_. They had wands, they could reproduce them. _Sometimes screams_ …they could reproduce that, too. He glanced over at Lily, and it appeared that the same thoughts were going through her mind, as well.

James began forming a rough idea in his mind, but when he glanced down at his watch, he saw that they were due to go downstairs in fifteen minutes. Whatever he had begun planning, now was not the time. It might be best to not start something that could trigger Sirius's flashbacks now, he thought. He would need more time to think it through, anyway, and maybe consult some of the literature again…

'Let's get ready to go. They'll be expecting us soon,' he decided, standing up. 'Thank you, Sirius,' he added more quietly, casting Sirius a long look. 'Thank you for telling me.'

Sirius nodded absently and stood up. James did not miss the glad look on his face when he realised that they would not be going through their session today. They got dressed quickly and headed downstairs. Harry and Hermione were already in the lobby, eating breakfast. Both wore bright but indecipherable smiles on their faces as they fed each other sausages. James made a mock retching motion, to which Hermione rolled her eyes in reply.

Lily dashed forward and gave both a hug, while James and Sirius settled for a pat on the back.

'Good morning,' Sirius greeted, much to James's surprise. He had never been the first one to speak in the morning before.

Harry looked as surprised as James felt, but his smile only grew wider. 'Good morning, Sirius.'

Sirius ruffled Harry's hair, and suddenly, James felt like he was twenty-one again, watching Sirius play with his infant son. For a moment, James thought he saw a sliver of the old Sirius return, the Sirius that he had known when they had been in school together, before everything that had happened…

'Had a good night?' Lily asked, sitting down. Inexplicably, James caught the faintest trace of a blush come over both their cheeks before Harry nodded, just a little awkwardly.

'Pretty good, and you?'

'Nothing to complain about,' Sirius was the one to reply, surprising everyone yet again.

The mood at the table seemed to be generally uplifting, and it was only improved when Helen and Josh came down, handing out tickets for the train. They finished their breakfast, then checked out of the hotel and hailed two taxis to the train station.

After twenty or so minutes of driving, they arrived and got out into the small train station. Even at this time, more than an hour before departure, the station was already filled with camera-toting tourists.

They walked onto the platform, and stopped in front of them was a train the likes of which James had never seen. He cast a sideways glance at Sirius and saw that he, too, had a surprised expression on his face. The train was sleek and silvery and was pulled by two enormous locomotives that emitted a low, rumbling noise as they idled on the platform. Through the windows, he could see comfortable-looking sleeping quarters in the carriages.

'Ticket, please,' the attendant asked as they walked up to the carriage door to board.

All seven of them handed over their tickets, and she checked each of them carefully before handing them all back to Lily. 'Welcome aboard,' she said warmly. 'Your cabins are up and to the right.'

James climbed the boarding steps after Lily. The interior looked a lot more than the Hogwarts Express than the exterior. A narrow corridor led down the length of the carriage, and the walls on either side were decorated quite elaborately. On the right was a row of doors leading to the sleeping compartments.

'Let's find our rooms,' Lily said, looking at the tickets. 'Harry, Hermione, you're in compartment five. Helen, Josh, you're in seven. James, you and I are in eight, and Sirius is in twelve, which is a single.'

With that, they proceeded down the length of the corridor. They passed Harry and Hermione's cabin first, and they ducked inside to put down their things. Then, they found the Grangers' cabin, and finally, their own.

'Sirius, you'll be fine finding your cabin on your own, right?' Lily asked, a touch of concern in her voice.

Sirius gave a slightly amused snort, one which James had not heard from him for a long time. 'I'm not a baby, Lily.'

'Sometimes, I can't tell the difference,' Lily chanced at snarking back. Sirius gave another amused chuckle and left, walking down the aisle to find his own compartment.

Lily closed the door behind them and looked at James for a long minute. 'He seemed to have…changed,' she breathed finally.

'He's more like his old self than before,' James agreed. 'He's not making lewd jokes at every turn, and he's not acting sullen and depressed when he's not, either.'

'Do you think he could be…'

James swallowed. 'It's too early to tell,' he replied sadly. 'He could…he could relapse…I don't know. And the way he acted today…it almost seemed…miraculous with how much of an about-face it was.'

'What do you mean?'

'You must've noticed,' James said, sitting down and looking out the window. The tourists outside were slowly streaming onto the train. 'The small things. How his expression looked much brighter than normal, how he greeted Harry and ruffled his hair, how he just laughed at your joke instead of standing there emotionlessly. It was different from even last night, when he was silent through all of dinner.'

'What do you think happened?' Lily asked, dropping down in the seat opposite him. 'Was it because of Harry?'

James shrugged. 'It might be…we've been here for almost a week…maybe he's finally feeling the effects? But why so suddenly now?'

They sat in silence for many minutes as the platform began to slowly empty. The heard a muffled thud as the carriage door shut. The train horn sounded several times, and soon enough, the train began to move, slowly and steadily departing from the station.

The outskirts of the city quickly became farmland and shrubbed hills. Finally, twenty minutes into the journey, Lily finally broke the silence.

'Are you going to keep doing what you've been doing?' she asked.

James nodded without a second thought. 'Just because he's better doesn't mean everything's _good_ ,' he replied. 'I read about it in the papers. It's possible for patients to suddenly improve dramatically, but that doesn't mean that they're all right.'

'And what you did back in the hotel…'

James nodded again. 'I think we should try to have him face his fears in the real world rather than just reliving them. The explosions and loud flashes…they aren't like Pettigrew. He was afraid of a memory then, but now, he's afraid of much more.'

Lily looked almost admiringly at him. James fought an urge to laugh. It felt like sixth year again, when he had been determined to 'deflate his head', as Sirius had termed it, and grow up. He supposed that in a way, it was the same, but his calling now was far more than a Head Boy's badge.

'Do you have a plan?'

James reached down, grabbed his backpack, and opened hit, pulling out his notes and books. 'I have ideas,' he replied, plopping them down on the table. 'I'll need to do more research, though.'

'We'll do more research,' Lily corrected, raising an eyebrow. 'You didn't I was going to let you do this all alone, were you? And besides, don't you think it might be a good idea to ask Helen and Josh?'

James blinked, caught off guard by her unexpected suggestion. 'Helen and Josh…aren't they dentists? They treat teeth, not minds.'

'They're still medical professionals,' Lily reasoned. 'In the muggle world, they're expected to look out for signs of issues beyond their immediate area of expertise. They could know…something. It's worth a shot, isn't it?'

James thought it over. It was a possible avenue that they had not thought to explore. It would make sense, James thought. St Mungo's Healers were expected to have some competency in all disciplines of Healing, after all, though it had slipped his mind that muggles might require the same.

'Let's give it a try,' James decided, standing up. 'Why not?'

He and Lily left their compartment and made their way down the aisle to the Grangers'. James knocked on the door, and a second later, Helen opened up.

'James. Lily,' she breathed, surprised. 'Did something happen?'

'No, nothing,' James reassured. 'We just wanted to talk to you.'

'Yeah, sure, come in,' Helen said. 'It might be a little tight…'

'No worries,' Lily replied easily, drawing her wand and giving it a wave. Instantly, one wall of the compartment was pushed out by half a metre.

Josh's jaw dropped as he watched the display. 'What…'

'Space expansion charm,' Lily answered, pre-empting the question. 'It's invisible from the outside. I'll un-do it when I leave, so no-one will notice a thing.'

'Wicked,' Josh gasped, his eyes unfocused. Helen punched him lightly on the arm, and that seemed to get his attention back to reality.

'What was it that you wanted to talk about?' she asked.

James took a deep breath. 'Sirius.'

Helen nodded slowly. 'Okay…'

'He's been suffering from PTSD,' James explained, cutting straight to the chase. Helen's hand shot up to cover her mouth, and Josh's eyes widened. 'I've been trying to help him,' he continued. 'Trying to talk him through his memories. It worked pretty well for one of them, it seemed, but…for this one, I thought that it might be better to try something different.'

Josh blinked several times, as if trying to clear his mind. 'You've been doing…talk therapy with him?'

'Something like that,' James murmured.

'You're like…a wizard psychologist?' Helen asked, dumbfounded.

James shook his head. 'No. There aren't any healers that work with the mind in the magical world,' he lamented. 'Everything I've been doing…trying to do…it's all self-taught.'

Helen gasped. 'That…is that a good idea?'

'It's better than letting him drink himself off a cliff,' James said gravely. 'There are no healers for the mind, and going to one in the muggle world would be…impossible.'

The Grangers exchanged a pensive look, and James wondered what they were thinking. Did they know something he did not about this? Or were they simply doubtful about what he had chosen to do? After a minute of heavy silence, Helen looked back at James, a somewhat troubled look on her face, and nodded.

'I suppose you're right…if there's really no one he can turn to…' she breathed, staring off into the distance. 'How has he been responding to the therapy?'

'Well, it seems,' James replied. 'The fear he felt for the first memory we worked through seemed to have gone down a lot. That's…good, right?'

'I…I guess,' Josh said, sounding a little lost. 'We were required to take a class on psychology in university, but this is beyond what I know.' He looked at James apologetically. 'I'm sorry. If you wanted to ask us for advice…I can't help you. I don't know anywhere near enough about this specific subject – far less than you know, it seems. I don't want to give you bad advice and do more harm than good. All I could advise you to do is read over the most current research you can get your hands on.'

Irrationally, James looked at Helen beseechingly, but she also shook her head.

'I'm sorry. I don't know, either.'

James swallowed and nodded slowly, exchanging a long look with Lily. She shrugged and gave a small shake of her own head. To be honest, it had been a long shot from the start. He had expected that two dentists would not know enough to help him, much like how two poison specialists would not be much help for a patient who had accidentally Transfigured half of his or her body, but that did not stop a sense of defeat from settling over him.

'I understand,' James replied, trying not to sound disappointed. 'I guess I'll just have to do more research. Thanks for your time, anyway. Sorry that I…uh…assumed.'

'There's no reason to thank us,' Helen said, shaking her head. 'We didn't do anything to help you. And there's no need to be sorry. I'm happy to spend five minutes talking to a friend. I have one request, though.'

'Sure.'

Helen's face grew suddenly serious. 'Keep an eye on Hermione, please. And Harry, too. The stories we heard about what happened in the war…I would be very surprised if they _weren't_ affected by them somehow. You're the only one here who knows enough about mental health to do something about it. Just…keep an eye out, please.'

James nodded. 'I promise I will.'

'And will you do your best to help them if they needed help?' Josh pressed.

'Without a doubt.'

Helen gulped, reaching over and squeezing James's arm. 'Thank you. I know it might be a lot of extra work for you…'

'No, it's not at all to me,' James replied firmly, his voice full of conviction. 'This is about my son and the most important person in the world to him. I will do anything and everything I can.'

* * *

Harry was in a dark, musty space. He knew it was a room, for he could see light filtering around the edges of a door, but otherwise, the space was unlit, and he could not make out any features of the walls, ceiling, or floor.

He seemed to not be able to move his hands and feet. It felt like they had been bound by some rope-like material. He struggled a little, and the bindings miraculously tore loose.

Suddenly, a piercing, blood-curdling scream came from above, cutting right through the darkness and stabbing Harry right in the heart. It caused him physical pain. His heart was being shredded right in his chest, his blood boiled in terror and rage, he was biting down on his tongue so hard that he could taste blood…

The scream came again. This time, he recognised it.

It was Hermione.

And suddenly, it all came back to him. They had been captured by the Snatchers. Ron was dead, cut down by a Killing Curse from Greyback. Bellatrix had sent him into the cellar, while she kept Hermione upstairs, torturing her with the Cruciatus Curse.

Things had only gotten worse from there. When Wormtail had shoved him into the cellar, he had found Luna, Dean, and Mr Ollivander dead on the floor, their corpses abandoned and halfway decomposed. He had gotten his friends killed…again.

The scream came again, and that pulled Harry back to reality. Bellatrix was hurting Hermione, and no matter who else he had lost, he could _never_ bear to lose her.

He staggered towards where he thought the door was, and to his surprise, it burst open. He climbed the stairs as Hermione gave another terrible shriek. Forgetting about stealth, he ran as fast as he could towards the drawing room.

Harry saw red as he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the dark witch. Several spells that he had neither seen nor heard of in his life flew out the end and impacted her right in the chest. The three Malfoys, who had been standing on the opposite end of the room, drew their wands and attacked. Harry was quicker, though, and in seconds, they were on the ground.

He dashed over to Hermione. She was lying unconscious, her face whiter than a sheet and her eyes wide open. He tried to shake her awake, but to no avail.

And that was when he saw it. The deep cut on her neck, reaching from her windpipe down the right side of her neck. Blood was pouring out of the open wound and trickling onto the floor.

Harry felt tears come to his eyes. 'No…please…not Hermione, too…not Hermione…'

He let his tears flow freely down his face. 'Not Hermione,' he kept repeating.

Harry did not realise that there was movement behind him until it was too late. He felt the cold tip of a wand press firmly into the back of his neck. Without needing to turn around, he could see Draco Malfoy's satisfied sneer in his head…

Malfoy said something that Harry did not catch. It had to be a taunt, perhaps an offer for him to beg for his life, but Harry did not care. He wanted death. It was better than living on in a world without her…what would he be fighting for, after all?

There was a whooshing sound, a short flash of green light, and he saw his body fall to the ground.

'No…not Harry…please not Harry…' he heard Hermione whimper. 'No…he's not dead…'

Harry froze in shock. Why was he hearing Hermione's voice? Was he not dead? Was she not dead? She was dead; he had to be dead. He had gone and joined her as he had wished to. But why could he feel arms around his body, the faint smell of her?

His eyes shot open and he found himself staring into a pair of brown irises in the darkness, the rhythmic sound of a train's wheels grinding against the tracks. Suddenly, reality came flooding back. They were not at Malfoy Manor, Hermione was not dead. With a trembling hand, he reached up and flipped the light switch.

Hermione's face was just as pale as it had been in his nightmare. She was trembling terribly, her nightshirt soaked with sweat. Harry could not help but glance at her neck. There was no terrifying, bleeding wound, but the skin had so little colour that it blended in with her garments. If anything, that was even more terrifying.

When Harry's senses came back to him, he found enough authority over his body to lean forward and wrap her up in a shaky hug, one which she tried to reciprocate the best she could.

'You're alive,' both croaked at nearly the same time.

Harry looked into her eyes. Her pupils were slowly returning to their normal dilation, but she was still shaking heavily. 'I…I thought you…'

Hermione shuddered. 'So…so did I…'

'But you're not,' Harry whispered. Those three words felt so beautiful on his tongue. It was an affirmation that she was still there with him…it was all he wanted…just to be where she was…

'Neither are you,' Hermione whispered back, burrowing her face into his chest and suddenly bursting into tears.

She clutched at his shirt, at his shoulders, at any part of him she could reach, as she bawled. Harry held her, supporting her in silence. He should have known that it was all too good to be true. Things had seemed almost perfect. Hermione's parents were back, Sirius was improving, and they were all together… Yet when the mask was peeled back…the wound was as angry as ever.

Hermione's crying stopped, and she lifted her head from his shoulders, looking at him with puffy eyes. Her trembling had ceased, but her face was still as pale as ever.

'Do you want to…go to sleep?' Harry suggested, despite not wanting to go to sleep himself. 'Or do you want to – '

'Can you…can you just h-hold me?' Hermione pleaded in a whimper. 'P-Please…'

Harry nodded and sat up against the compartment wall, parting his legs slightly and letting her sit in between them. Her back leaned against his chest, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

She was there…the feel of her presence was all that Harry cared about…

The sun began rising over the Australian Outback, and they still sat rigidly still, arms around each other, Harry wondering if they would ever see a light at the end of the tunnel…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enormous thank-you's to Aani and maschl, without whose help this chapter would have been nowhere near as polished.
> 
> Important: James knows about as much as I know about PTSD and how to treat it (possibly at this point, a little more). He is not supposed to be a perfect therapist or even a good one. He is someone who is trying his best to help a friend in a world with no conception of mental health (remember that 'mind healers' are purely fanon) and where going to a muggle psychologist is completely out of the question for obvious reasons of Statute of Secrecy and believability.
> 
> If you or someone you know is suffering from PTSD or any mental health condition, please do not take this story as a guide or even a suggestion on how to treat it! Unlike the wizarding world, in the regular world, there are resources available that can help you. Please take care, especially during these recent times.


	12. Scars Exposed

James made his way down the corridor to Sirius's cabin, Lily behind him. The sun was just beginning to rise over the red, otherworldly desert landscape, and the view out the train windows was eerie, almost like it had been created through some obscure magics.

He knocked on Sirius's door, and after a few moments, the door slid open. Sirius was still in his pyjamas, his hair messy. The bed had already been turned back into a seat, and the sheets folded and tucked away on the luggage rack.

'Good morning, Padfoot,' James said lightly, consciously choosing to use his Marauder codename in hopes of keeping Sirius's seemingly good mood. 'Slept well?'

'Was okay,' Sirius replied, looking up at him. 'And you, Prongs?'

'Not bad,' James said. 'Are you dressed?'

Sirius looked at himself for a second. 'I'll have to change out of the pyjamas and brush my teeth.'

James nodded. 'Why don't you do that and meet us in our compartment?'

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'For what?'

'We have something that we wanted to…discuss with you,' Lily supplied in a cautious voice.

'Fine,' Sirius said, a little darkly, perhaps realising what they wanted to talk to him about. 'I'll meet you there.'

James and Lily left and returned to their own compartment. They closed the door behind them and drew their wands to start casting the charms they would need for what they had planned to do. James cast an Undetectable Space-Expansion Charm, tripling the room available within the compartment, while Lily soundproofed the room and magically padded the floors and walls. Finally, James drew the blinds and locked them in place, casting the compartment into near darkness.

There was a knock on the door, and James peeked out to see Sirius standing in the corridor. He opened the door wider, allowing him to come in. As Sirius entered, his face quickly took on a look of shock and puzzlement when he saw what they had prepared.

'What's going on?' he asked, sounding a little alarmed.

'Why don't you take a seat, Sirius?' Lily said kindly. 'We'll explain.'

Sirius gulped before marching over and plopping down on one of the seats, examining the space more carefully as he sat down. James could see his mind working behind his eyes, how he was already instinctively searching for an escape path.

James took a deep breath. He had rehearsed this conversation several times in his head already, but to actually have it felt like a whole different matter altogether. What he had planned to say felt stiff, impersonal, but he pressed on anyway, thinking that it was better to just get it over with.

'Sirius…well…thank you for telling me…what you told me…yesterday,' he began.

Sirius nodded, his face neither brightening nor darkening. James grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and a pencil from the small fold-out table before continuing.

'We…Lily and I…we thought that maybe…maybe, we could try something different…so that we can better help you.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'And what is it that you wanted to try?'

'Remember what we did yesterday?' James asked, to which Sirius nodded. 'Well…I was thinking…we could try something similar…but closer to what you told us you dream about.'

There was a moment of silence as Sirius processed that. 'How did you want to do that?' he asked, sounding resigned and curious at the same time.

James took another deep breath. 'I think we should start slowly,' he answered. 'Lily and I could Disillusion ourselves…and we'll cast small flashes of light as we move around the room. We enlarged the compartment, as you see, so that we could do that. Once you feel okay with the lights, we can start adding sound, too. In the end…the goal is to get you to disassociate flashes and sudden loud noises with what happened…just like what we did before, but just approaching it a different way.'

The three of them looked at each other mutely for a long minute before Sirius broke the silence. 'I really don't fear it as much as I thought I would,' he whispered, his breath hoarse. 'The noises and the light, I mean.'

That unexpected statement caught James off-guard. 'Pardon?'

Sirius swallowed. 'I don't fear it as much as I thought I would when we talked about it yesterday,' he repeated. 'The fear seemed to go away after…it seemed to fade a little, somehow…after I…I spoke openly about it. If you asked me how much I fear those memories on that scale of yours…I'd give it a twenty-five, maybe.'

James exchanged a look with Lily. So that had been the cause of Sirius's miraculously good mood yesterday. For reasons that James did not understand, the conversation that they had had had taken Sirius a stride forward in the right direction. But as much as James wanted to celebrate the news, he knew that he had to be cautious. Sirius might not be fearing those memories consciously, but that did not mean that there would be no response to them still hardwired in his mind.

'That's…good,' James said carefully. 'Maybe…maybe we should put you through a test? With sound and light? Just to see how you would react?'

As soon as he said that, James wanted to slap himself. What he had proposed had not been suggested in any of the texts that he had consulted. He was purely going off of the intuition of an amateur, intuition that could end up hurting Sirius more than helping. Yet, at the same time, he also wanted to know that Sirius was truly all right, that he truly did not fear those memories, and at the same time, he felt irrationally that his intuition might, in fact, be _right_?

Sirius grunted and rose. 'Fine. What do I need to do?'

Lily led him over to the centre of the expanded compartment and bade him to stand still. She and James exchanged a look before Disillusioning themselves. They had gone through the plan several times already. He trusted that she knew what to do, and she him.

They started pacing around the compartment, firing off flashes of colour from their wands, occasionally mixing in loud cracks or bangs. James noticed that Sirius jumped a little at the first flashes and especially at the first explosion-like sound, but still stood stiffly, rooted to the spot. His face paled slightly as he held a look of intense concentration, as if working hard to convince himself that it was all a simulation, that he was not really in a battle…

James and Lily kept it up for nearly ten minutes. As James continued casting spells, he also tried to concentrate on monitoring Sirius. Seven or eight minutes in, he seemed slightly shaken, but otherwise almost…okay. His pupils had returned to their normal size, and his countenance was not as pale as it had been during their first sessions. Finally, supposing that Sirius had 'stabilised', James stopped his casting and dispelled the Disillusionment, panting slightly as he sat back down.

'How do you feel, Padfoot?' Lily asked gently, cancelling her own Disillusionment Charm.

Sirius collapsed into his own seat. 'Not terrible,' he answered breathlessly.

'Compared to our first day with the Pettigrew memory?' James inquired.

Sirius shrugged. 'Not as bad.'

'How so?' James pressed for more.

Sirius sighed, looking hesitant for several seconds before opening his mouth. 'I'm…I guess I'm not _seeing_ the scenes right in my head like I used to. When we did the Pettigrew memory…I always saw it pictured clearly in my mind…and this…this feels different. When I saw it again…it was just lights and sounds…nothing more.'

James nodded and made a mental note to write that observation down. 'Do you still dream about it often?' he asked. 'The war?'

Sirius tried to look out the window, but with the blinds drawn, he could not see anything to occupy himself with. 'Less since we started,' he admitted, sounding reluctant. 'Well…I've dreamt less in general. But it's just the…' His face grew terribly grim. 'The dreams about those…other things…'

There was no need to ask what the 'other things' were. 'What about Pettigrew?' James asked, directing the conversation away from the touchy subject. For the meantime, at least.

Sirius's expression told James that he was trying to recall. 'Only once,' he replied. 'After the first day.'

James nodded. Intuitively, that seemed as good of a sign as any that what they were doing was yielding results, though clinically, it still might be too early to draw a conclusion. Sirius seemed to have managed to suppress his nightmares of Pettigrew, with the exception of that first night, though even that seemed understandable, given that they had just dredged up old traumas…

'Is there anything else you dream frequently of?' James asked, looking down the list. 'Or memories that seem to get brought back often?'

Sirius thought silently. 'No,' he answered in a whisper. 'Not really. It's only... _that_ …'

James gulped and felt blood flow from his face. Despite them all seemingly trying their best to put it off, they had arrived at the inevitability that was Sirius's memories of Azkaban. James felt the familiar feeling of being lost. He could not bring Sirius in front of a dementor, nor, obviously, could he lock him in a small, dark room. But just plain talking through it…would it be enough? Azkaban was completely different from the Pettigrew encounter, after all.

But he would not try now. As with so many things, he needed to think it through, preferably with Lily, and perhaps consult his materials once again. He glanced down at his watch. They had to get going, anyway.

He and Lily began dispelling the charms that they had cast, and the room shrank back down to the normal-looking muggle compartment. They proceeded down to the restaurant car for breakfast, and when they arrived, they found Helen and Josh already sitting at one of the tables. Harry and Hermione, however, were nowhere to be seen.

James did not think too much of it as he sat down. The two of them were often the last ones to come down, and today was simply no different. He ordered a hearty breakfast, complete with a cup of coffee, and ate slowly, looking out the window at the Outback flying past their window.

It was not until James was almost finished with his breakfast that Harry and Hermione showed up. Even at first glance, something seemed…off. They were clinging to each other more tightly than usual – and that was saying something, James thought with a touch of humour.

'How was your night?' Helen asked, pulling out two chairs. The two separated, a little reluctantly, and sat down tiredly.

'Fine,' Harry mumbled, taking a piece of toast.

James examined his son more closely. There were obvious shadows under his eyes, and his countenance looked almost sallow. He picked up his butter knife, and James noticed that his movements seemed weak and lethargic.

His gaze shifted over to Hermione. She looked a little better, though that was not saying much. There were clumps of her hair sticking up on end. Her face did not look as sickly as Harry's, but it was still obvious that she had not slept much the previous night.

It was certainly not usual. The two of them, judging from the limited time that James had spent together with them, at least, were almost always energised and animated – when they were around each other. Something had shaken both of them last night, and James deduced what it was in an instant. It was disturbingly similar to the expression that Sirius had borne on his face the mornings after their first sessions together.

James remembered his conversation with Helen the day before, and the promise that he had made, and knew instantly that he needed to act…do something. He stood up, not having finished his breakfast, but excused himself from the table, muttering an excuse about needing to 'get ready'. He walked back down the corridor to his compartment and pushed open his compartment door before sitting down on his seat, his eyes looking out the window at the desert landscape but not quite taking anything in as his thoughts absorbed him.

It was obvious that despite all assurances and appearances, Harry was not all right. He and Hermione helped each other with their presence, James did not doubt that, but could they truly _heal_ each other? What if they were suffering more than they let on?

James stood up decisively. He had a duty to find out. Not only was he now perhaps the only person in all of Magical Britain who knew anything about PTSD, but he was also Harry's father, and, he hoped, a friend of Hermione's parents. Even without the promise that he had made to Helen the day before, he would have done anything he could to investigate further. Those titles – 'father', 'friend' – were not simply something to be taken for granted, after all. They had to be earned, and he would do his best to earn them.

He checked his watch. It was almost nine. The train was due to arrive in Alice Springs in half an hour, and he decided that this was not the time to have this conversation with either of them. Harry and Hermione should have time to process what had happened before he went to them. Perhaps he was being a fool, but James also thought that they should have the opportunity to explore the desert town without him hanging yet another morsel of dread over their heads.

He would keep a close eye on them during the day excursion, James decided, and check in on them after they had returned to their compartment for the night. A day of sightseeing and good food might make the conversation easier for everyone.

He hoped that he was making the right choice…

* * *

Harry threw open his compartment door and fell limply onto his bed, which still sat unmade from the previous night. His legs were sore from a day of walking, his face and arms slightly red from being under the burning desert sun all day, and his eyes were constantly drooping. The disrupted sleep of the night before was catching up to him.

Hermione staggered through after him, threw her bag onto the luggage rack, and collapsed on top of him, her face impacting the soft pillow with a thud. Struggling a little, he brought his arms up and wrapped them around her weakly.

'How do you feel?' Harry whispered, clumsily trying to stroke her hair.

'Tired,' Hermione mumbled into the pillow, not bothering to pick her head up.

'Then sleep.'

'The lights are on.'

Harry grunted, trying to reach for the light switch on the opposite wall, before giving up and going for his wand. With a single fatigued flick, the lights in the compartment shut off, and the window blinds closed.

'Good night, Hermione,' he murmured, closing his eyes.

'Good night, Harry,' he thought he heard her voice say.

The next thing Harry heard was a knocking on the compartment door. He shifted on his bed, and found that Hermione's weight was still draped over him, pinning him to the bed and tangling his limbs. He opened his eyes. It was morning, evidenced by the sunlight filtering through the window blinds. He peeked out. The landscape outside was still the familiar extraplanetary red, though a small town could be seen off in the far distance.

There was a knock on the door again. 'Who is it?' Harry called, his voice a little hoarse.

'It's me,' came his father's voice. 'You're awake, Harry?'

'I am,' Harry replied, an irrational feeling of anxiety coming over him as he reached for his wand. 'What happened?'

'Nothing,' James replied. 'I didn't see you at all after dinner last night and wanted to make sure everything was okay. Also, I wanted to talk to you for a minute.'

'Talk to me?'

'Yes, you and Hermione. Are you decent?'

'Uh…no,' Harry answered. 'Hermione's still asleep.'

'I'm awake,' Hermione moaned quietly. 'Who is it?'

'It's my dad,' Harry whispered before turning his face back towards the door. 'What did you want to talk to us about?'

'Harry, could you get ready?' James asked. 'I'll come back in twenty minutes.'

'Fine,' Harry replied, half grumbling. Reluctantly, he and Hermione disentangled their bodies, clothes, and hair and headed down to the washroom. He turned the shower on as hot as he could handle and stepped under the stream of water, scrubbing off the sleep and grime of yesterday. He then quickly brushed his teeth and magically dried his hair, before returning to his compartment.

Hermione had already cleaned up and reset the beds to their sitting configuration. She gave him a small smile when she saw him. The night's sleep seemed to have done wonders. The colour of her countenance looked far healthier, and her eyes shined once again, if in a subdued fashion.

'Good morning,' Harry said, pecking her on the lips. He was altogether unprepared when Hermione gave a mischievous giggle and suddenly pulled him tightly to her. The kiss soon grew heated. Their lips parted, and tongues darted forward. His hand travelled up and down her back, before wrapping around to her front and beginning to slide under her shirt…

Hermione suddenly pulled apart, and Harry could not help but feel a little disappointed. 'Not now,' she panted, red in the face. 'Your dad.'

'Right,' Harry said dumbly, feeling his face burn a little. 'I'd rather him not catch us doing something compromising.'

Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'It was just an innocent snog.'

'Give it another three minutes, and it wouldn't have been so innocent,' Harry muttered, combing a hand through his hair. Hermione backhanded him lightly across the chest and shot him a glare, but did not say anything in objection.

The compartment door opened a few minutes later, and James stepped in, his hair a mess and still wearing his pyjama bottoms.

'Hope you slept well,' he said with a smile. 'I came last night and nobody answered the door. I assumed you were already asleep.'

'I fell asleep within a minute of laying down,' Harry affirmed with a shy chuckle.

'I can't blame you,' James said, sitting down on the spare seat. 'You had a rough night the night before.'

'How did you know?' Harry asked, surprised.

'It's not hard to see,' James answered simply. 'What happened?'

Harry shrugged, gulping at the same time. 'Nothing, really. Just slept poorly.'

James raised an eyebrow. 'Both of you?'

Harry did not answer.

'I know what's going on, you know,' James said, sounding a little uncomfortable as he wrung his hands. 'I know you're having nightmares.'

'We weren't – '

James shook his head sadly. 'You don't need to lie to me, Harry. Nor do you, Hermione. You two looked almost the same yesterday morning as Sirius does after a night of terrors.'

Harry looked at his father in mute silence for many long moments, debating with himself. His first instinct was to deny it, tell James that he had no reason to be worried. He did not need yet another case on his hands when he was already so busy with Sirius, after all.

But, on the other hand, if he denied that anything was wrong, would he not be implicitly speaking for Hermione, too, given how James had framed the question? It would be a terrible violation of her trust, the trust that Harry valued more than almost everything else in the world…

'Say something, please,' James said slowly, an unmistakable pleading in his voice. 'Harry…I might be able to do something to help. Everything…everything I've done…Lily's done…from the moment you came into this world was to help you…protect you…because we love you, Harry. I know that you don't need protecting anymore…I know Lily and I have missed all these years of your life, but…I hope you can trust us…trust me to let me at least try. There's nothing in the world that would make us think any differently of you.'

They stared at each other for several long minutes, James pleading silently with his eyes. Harry snuck a glance at Hermione, and she held an impassive expression on her face that for once, he could not read. Suddenly, he was reminded of how sickly she looked that night, when she had abruptly woken up from her nightmare, and that seemed to make his decision for him.

Harry looked back towards his father, though not quite meeting his eyes. He hesitated once more, but his father's words came back to him. It was the first time that he had said those words…said that he loved him, and somehow, those words seemed to make his decision for him.

Harry nodded slowly. 'Yes, we were,' he said, his voice barely audible, even to himself.

He could hear James gulp. 'For how long?' he asked. 'And how often?'

'Not too often.'

'Tell me more, please.'

Harry sighed. 'Maybe once a week,' he answered reluctantly.

'And you, Hermione?'

'Same,' she breathed back, staring blankly at the wall beyond James.

'How bad are they?' James asked. He started reaching for his bag, but seemed to decide otherwise and stopped, turning back to look at them.

'Not bad,' Harry replied automatically.

They fell into an awkward silence before James broke it with a sad sigh. 'Can you look me in the eye and tell me that they're "not bad", Harry?'

Perhaps trying to prove to himself that he was okay, Harry tried to raise his eyes to look into James's. Yet, the moment their eyes made contact, Harry felt a sudden discomfort, an urge to look away. He tried to open his mouth and repeat what he said, but found that no sound came out. Dejectedly, he looked back down at his lap and gave a tiny shake of his head in surrender.

'Is there anything I can do to help?' James asked quietly after a short while.

Harry shrugged. 'Is there?' he murmured doubtfully. 'It hasn't ever gone away. I've been having nightmares since the end of the second year. First it was about the basilisk, then Voldemort coming back, then everything that happened in the war…it's too late.'

James suddenly leaned towards him and put a hand on his knee. Harry automatically wanted to jerk away, but Hermione's hand on his left made him stay put. He was doing this for her, he reminded himself. Even if he could not be helped, she still had hope.

'Look at me, Harry,' James breathed. Harry's eyes, though, remained stubbornly trained on his lap. 'Please.'

Hermione gave Harry's left hand a tiny squeeze, and that seemed to propel him into action. Slowly, his eyes travelled up to his father's face, before he gave himself one final push and forced himself to meet his gaze.

'Sirius had been bearing a heavy burden since before you were even born, Harry,' James said quietly. 'He thought that he was a lost cause, thought that the only thing he could do was to drink himself off the edge…but look at him now, Harry. He still has a long way to go, and I would never claim that I'm even _good_ at what I'm doing, but…if Sirius can get better, maybe so can you. It's not too late. It's never too late.'

Harry found himself chuckling cynically. 'I don't know.'

'Then let's at least try,' James proposed. 'What I'm doing seems to be helping Sirius. Maybe it will help you, too.'

'What are you doing with Sirius?' Hermione asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

'We're trying exposure therapy,' James explained. 'Having him recount his traumatic memories…or relive them some other way. The idea is to desensitise him to it, disassociate what you experienced with the fear impulse.'

'Relive?' Harry gasped, aghast. 'That'll just make it worse. I don't want to relive – '

'You're not wrong,' James interrupted. 'For the first few days, it will be worse. It was for Sirius, at least. But it'll have to get worse before you get better. The plaster needs to be removed to heal what's underneath.'

'The plaster seems to be holding up pretty well right now,' Harry muttered.

James shook his head. 'Maybe, but you've seen how Sirius was the night you left. He thought his plaster could hold up forever, too – up until it landed him in St Mungo's.'

'It's relief,' Harry protested feebly. 'I feel okay most of the time already.'

'But temporary relief grants you only that – temporary relief,' James said firmly, sitting up. Harry could see his eyes shining with determination. 'Drinking gave Sirius temporary relief, so he began thinking that Firewhiskey was the answer to his problems. But it's not. That's like using a crutch for the rest of your life and not bothering with the broken bone. You won't truly be "better" unless you heal the root cause.'

'And you can "heal the root cause"?'

'I can promise to try my best.'

Harry looked at James in silence, remaining doubtful. He knew – even agreed with – James's reasoning, but if he had to be truthful with himself, he was almost satisfied with things the way they were and did not want to change them. Hermione's presence alone seemed enough to hold him up. Her words soothed him enough; her arms calmed him enough; going to bed with her numbed him enough. The plaster seemed to be holding well.

'Could you give us a minute?' Hermione asked quietly.

James gave a quick nod and stood up, leaving the compartment. When the door slid closed behind him, Hermione turned to Harry, her expression soft yet at the same time filled with resolve.

'You're going to tell me to say yes, aren't you?'

Hermione nodded. 'Yes, I was,' she admitted stiffly. 'I think you should. I think we both should.'

'You heard him,' Harry replied tiredly. 'It'll get worse before it gets better. I feel fine. I don't need things to go backwards.'

'But you also didn't hear everything he said,' Hermione reasoned, determined. 'We're both relying on a crutch. The things we try to do might be satisfying enough, but…you know it's just temporary. If we go through with this, even if it feels worse momentarily…it's so that we can get better…really better…in the long run.'

'At least let him try, Harry,' she added, seeing what must have been a sceptical expression on Harry's face. She leaned forward and touched her forehead to his. 'Let him try…please…I wouldn't say this if I weren't concerned for you…'

'I'm concerned for you, too,' Harry breathed, looking deeply into her eyes. 'If I…'

Hermione gave a small nod. 'We'll get through this together.'

She stood up, walked over to the door, and opened it. James stepped in and sat down quietly, his eyes searching Harry's face momentarily before an impassive expression came over his face once again.

Hermione took a deep breath. 'You can help us?'

James nodded. 'To the best of my abilities.'

Hermione glanced over at Harry. 'Would you? Please?'

James's eyes flitted between the two of them. 'You'll let me try?'

Harry nodded. 'Yes,' he answered, his reluctance receding as he saw Hermione's beseeching look.

'Then…' James reached for his bag, a hopeful expression coming over his face. 'I'll try my best.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enormous thank-you's to Aani and maschl, without whose help this chapter would have been nowhere near as polished.
> 
> Important: James knows about as much as I know about PTSD and how to treat it (possibly at this point, a little more). He is not supposed to be a perfect therapist or even a good one. He is someone who is trying his best to help a friend in a world with no conception of mental health (remember that 'mind healers' are purely fanon) and where going to a muggle psychologist is completely out of the question for obvious reasons of Statute of Secrecy and believability.
> 
> If you or someone you know is suffering from PTSD or any mental health condition, please do not take this story as a guide or even a suggestion on how to treat it! Unlike the wizarding world, in the regular world, there are resources available that can help you. Please take care, especially during these recent times.


	13. The Sun Still Shines

Harry looked out the window of his hotel room. The sun had set over the western horizon, and the clouds were silhouetted black against the blood-red sky. It had not been a long day – it was only six in the evening, and they had spent the majority of the day on the train – but right now, Harry wanted to do nothing more than to go to sleep and avoid the rest of the world.

There was a knock on the hotel room door, and he felt a sense of reluctance and dread settle over him. James was here, and even though he had agreed to let him try, it did not mean that he was looking forward to what James was about to do.

Hermione turned on his lap to face him, her eyes boring deeply into his own. 'We'll get through this together, okay?' she breathed, briefly touching his nose with hers. 'It'll be fine.'

'It'll be fine,' Harry repeated, more to reassure her than himself.

Hermione gently kissed him on the lips, the brief contact filling him with warmth. She sat up, grabbed her pyjama bottoms from the foot of the bed, and pulled them on, before walking over to answer the door. Harry hastily threw on his jumper and followed her.

James was standing out in the corridor, his rucksack held in his right hand and wearing a cautious smile on his face. 'Good evening.'

Hermione tried to smile back, but it looked quite forced. 'Good evening,' she replied. 'Come on in.'

James gave a small nod before entering the room. He walked over to the opposite end and took a seat on an armchair by the window. Harry and Hermione sat down side-by-side on their bed. Hermione rested her arm on Harry's left shoulder, trying to reassure him, but that did not quell his impending anticipation.

'How have you been?' James asked, trying to break the ice. 'What have you been doing?'

Harry shrugged. 'Nothing much. It's only been two hours since we last saw each other.'

James cocked an eyebrow and pointed his chin towards a spot on the floor. 'I see you've been busy with…some things.'

Harry craned his neck, looking over the foot of the bed to where he was gesturing. The moment he saw it, he felt his face begin burning. His t-shirt was lying on the floor, forgotten about in his haste to go and answer the door. He turned back to James and tried to concoct a story, but found that his voice would not work.

James chuckled. 'I won't tell anyone,' he said conspiratorially. 'When Lily and I started dating…oh, my…'

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, her face bright red in embarrassment. 'Uh…that's…nice,' she mumbled.

'It was indeed,' James reminisced, smirking evilly at their discomfort. 'The Library and the Common Room, I'll tell you…'

Harry stared at his father, mortified at what he was hearing. He wanted to tell him that he did not need to know, but he found that he had all of a sudden lost the ability to form words. James allowed himself a few seconds of laughter at their expense before returning to seriousness. 'Has this been what you've been doing to cope?'

Harry shrugged, knowing that the answer was 'yes' but not wanting to say it out loud, not wanting to, in some way, admit defeat. James, however, seemed to gather as much from the expression on their faces.

'I understand,' he said quietly. 'It feels like an escape, doesn't it? For a short while, nothing else seems real. But then…'

'It comes back,' Hermione muttered.

'It comes back.'

'And you can make it go away?' Harry murmured.

James sighed. 'I can't promise you anything except to try my best.' He turned to look at Harry and Hermione, a deathly serious expression on his face. 'Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? You can still back out if you really wanted to.'

They exchanged a look, and Hermione gave a small nod. 'I'm sure,' Harry answered.

'Well, then…we'll start,' James said, reaching into his bag and pulling out a stack of parchment and a pencil. 'What we're trying to do is walk you through your most traumatic memories…try to dissociate what you saw from automatic fear. Things like lights, or flashes, or…screams…blood…'

At James's last four words, a flash of memories shot across the surface of his psyche. He batted them down – little things like that did not seem to bother him anymore – but still could not help but shudder ever so slightly at them.

'We'll need to…uh…think up a list of things that you fear,' James continued. 'And rank them based on how much you fear them. We'll work through them one by one. Things won't get better overnight, but if Sirius is any example…they will, eventually.'

Harry and Hermione both nodded slowly. 'How will we do that?' Hermione asked. 'We can't…have a duel…in here.'

'We'll try to talk through them,' James replied. 'It seemed to work for Sirius and his memories from the day he met Pettigrew. We start from the lowest ranked items on the list, and we'll pick an event where it happened. You recount them to me in as much detail as you can. Hopefully, with time, those memories will start to feel more…normalised.'

James grabbed the writing pad off the desk in the corner of the room. 'You're sure you want to continue?' Both Harry and Hermione nodded again. 'Then…Harry, can I start with you?'

'Can't we do it together?' Hermione asked, interrupting him. 'Make a list for the both of us?'

James looked at her mutely. Judging by the expression on his face, it seemed like he did not know how exactly to answer her. 'I…I don't know. I haven't read anything that says one way or another…'

'Harry and I have gone through almost everything together,' Hermione argued. 'Helping him would be the same as helping me. And…uh…it might be better for us…for Harry.'

She reached over and squeezed Harry's hand for support, and he squeezed gently back. 'Hermione is right,' he added quietly, finding the prospect of her idea far more appealing than going it completely alone. 'I…if we can…I want to do it together.'

James looked up from the parchment that he was reading and sighed. 'We can try it,' he said. 'If it can make things better…we can try it.'

Harry snuck a look over at Hermione and saw on her face a flash of relief. He turned back and watched as James fumbled about, trying to balance pieces of parchment on his lap, and found that his initial apprehensiveness had somewhat dissipated thanks to Hermione's suggestion. It was still truly a wonder what her presence could do for him…

'Are you sure about this?' James asked again, sounding even more cautious this time. 'I know you were doubtful when we talked about this on the train, Harry. I don't want to – '

'I'm sure,' Harry replied. This time, he felt that his answer had come more intimately from within himself, that he was not simply saying something for Hermione's or for James's sake.

James nodded slowly, examining Harry carefully for several moments before refocusing his gaze. 'I guess…before we start, do you want to ask me anything?' he asked, shifting a little in his chair awkwardly.

Harry regarded his father and a sense of doubt welled up in him again, but he did not know whether or not to voice his doubt. James seemed to genuinely care – he was even giving up his evening doing something ostensibly hopeless – but Harry felt a sort of disconnect. Here, right now, in this room, James felt less like his father or his friend and more like an impersonal healer…

He opened his mouth, and before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out. 'Will they stop?' he croaked. 'The nightmares.'

Unexpected to Harry, James's face darkened by several shades. Now, it was him who seemed conflicted between being forthright and guarded. Harry watched as he swallowed hard and took a long, deep breath.

'No,' he answered, far quieter than Harry expected. 'No. They've never stopped completely for me.'

It took a few seconds for the implication to hit him. 'You…you have…'

'Yes,' James replied sombrely. 'There were…things that happened during the First War, before we had you, Harry. Skirmishes and fights…Inferius…seeing people die.'

Harry's jaw dropped, for what he was saying seemed to run contrary to everything that he knew and had observed from his father. 'But…but you…'

'I seem all right?' James asked, raising his eyebrows. Harry nodded uncomfortably. 'That's because I am all right…Lily and I. The little that we've seen…it's nothing compared to everything that happened during the First War, nothing compared to what Sirius went through in Azkaban, nothing compared to what you've encountered. Even when Voldemort…the night we died…it was quick; we didn't feel anything. And in the end…we succeeded in protecting you. It causes us less distress now than you'd think.'

'But you…but you still have…nightmares?' Harry pressed.

'Yes,' James admitted. 'Not too many now, compared to years before. I've only had one, I think, since we returned. They might not go away completely, but they will get better. Maybe…maybe you will actually end up in a better place than me. I never had…' he gestured at his stack of parchment, 'any of this.'

Perhaps James's admission ought to have made Harry feel yet more ill at ease. Yet, on the contrary, it only seemed to imbue him with a new sense of trust and confidence in his father, the source of which he could not quite pinpoint.

'What do you want us to do?' Harry asked.

James cleared his throat. 'I'll need you…the two of you, I suppose, to come up with a list of things that you fear. Whatever comes up most in your nightmares. And I'll need you to rank them on a scale from zero to a hundred. The higher the number, the more you fear that memory.'

'Fear the memory?' Hermione asked, sounding somewhat perplexed. 'What do you mean "fear"?'

'Have you ever…I don't know, woken up in the middle of the night from a specific nightmare in particular?' James replied thoughtfully. 'Or seen something that made your mind flash back to something that happened? And as for ranking them…it's hard, but subjectively, how much do they affect you?'

Harry trawled through his memories, trying to remember his most frequent night terrors. Immediately, the encounter at Malfoy Manor leapt out at him like a terrible feral beast. He had come so close then to losing Hermione forever… Even in his waking moments, that memory frightened him like no other.

Truth be told, he did not even want to discuss what had happened then, nor did he think that Hermione's tortured screams would ever fully be expunged from his mind. But then, he remembered that he was not just doing this for himself. If the sounds of her screams were enough to trigger terrors in Harry…he could not even begin to imagine what it was like for her.

'Malfoy Manor,' Harry breathed. To his right, he saw Hermione jump a little, and he placed a hand on the small of her back, trying to reassure her in some way. 'One hundred.'

James took that down on his notepad. 'The last battle,' Hermione said. 'When we all thought Harry was…d-dead. Ninety.'

'At the Department of Mysteries,' Harry added, wincing. As if Sirius falling through the Veil was not enough, it was yet another time that he had almost lost her. 'Uh…seventy.'

'What about the night Voldemort returned?' Hermione asked, looking at Harry, an unsure and cautious expression on her face.

Harry nodded and tried to smile to her in gratitude, but it only came out forced. 'Sixty.'

'The night at Godric's Hollow,' Hermione supplied. 'When…when Voldemort's snake almost…almost killed Harry. Forty.'

'The night Dumbledore died,' Harry said. 'I…I had no idea where anyone was…if they were hurt or not. Maybe…thirty-five.'

James made several more notes before looking back up, wordlessly asking for any other memories. Harry and Hermione sat in silence for several more minutes, and Harry tried to remember his dreams. Nothing more seemed to occur to him, though the memories of several other episodes still shook him. There had been Hermione's Petrification…that night in the Forbidden Forest with Remus…the night Dumbledore had died…but those seemed to pale in comparison to the other memories. The other memories in which Hermione had been truly on the brink of death…

'I can't remember anything else,' he said finally.

'Neither can I,' Hermione echoed in a small voice.

'All right…you ranked the night Dumbledore died the lowest on your list,' James said, looking down at his notes momentarily and then back up at Harry and Hermione. 'We can start with that and slowly work our way up to the higher ranked memories…we'll work on one at a time until the score you gave drops significantly…or if you feel like you need to stop. It's the same as what Sirius and I have been doing.'

'Are you okay with that?' he asked, leaning forward slightly.

Hermione reached over and took Harry's hand again, gripping it tightly. 'Yeah,' Harry found the courage to say.

'Then…either of you…or both of you…please describe in as much detail as possible what happened that night,' James requested. 'And…try to picture it the best you could in your mind. Try to _see_ the memory in your mind, if that makes sense.'

When they concluded nearly two hours later, even James looked pale and unsettled. Harry did not know what to feel. A part of him, as he had expected, was now even more shaken than before. Yet, at the same time, there was also a sort of relief at having told someone, someone who cared about what happened more than just out of a desire to gain information. Unexpectedly, James hugged both of them briefly in goodbye, and Harry, despite feeling a slight bit uneasy to start, felt himself relax into his father's embrace.

'How do you feel?' Hermione asked after James closed the door behind him, turning to Harry and gently draping her arms over his shoulders.

Harry shrugged. 'I don't know.'

'But better than I expected,' he added a few seconds later.

Hermione gave a small but genuine smile and pulled him fully into an embrace. 'That's good.'

Harry nodded half-heartedly into her shoulder. 'And you?'

'Better than I'd expected.'

She pulled back and looked into his eyes. 'We can get through this, can't we? We'll be fine.'

'We'll be fine,' Harry affirmed, this time actually believing in what he was saying. 'We have each other, don't we?'

* * *

Time had flown by, and before Harry knew it, it was already their second-to-last day in Australia. Their last stop was Sydney, from where they would be catching a flight back home. The last two weeks had felt like anything but. Between travelling, seeing sights, and perhaps most of all, the nightly meetings with James, it had felt like a full month had already gone by.

Things had gotten better with James's intervention, he supposed. Now, when the earlier memories replayed in his head – willingly or not – they no longer seemed so vivid and terrifying. Instead, he was hit with a duller feeling. He could still see himself in those scenes, could still see Hermione or himself dying. They still shook him, but as James had said, the terror seemed to be slowly receding.

The nightmares had not gone away, either, even as they were slowly beginning to broach upon the heavier memories on their list. He did find, however, that they haunted him less, and that they were jerking both himself and Hermione awake in the middle of the night less often. As minute as it was, it still seemed like progress, and if Harry had learned anything during the Horcrux quest, it was to be grateful for small advances.

They had agreed on a late start to the day, though Harry awoke early by unwilling habit. It was a lazy sort of morning as he and Hermione spent more than an hour in bed, simply holding each other. They took an unexpectedly long shower before heading down to have breakfast. Hermione's parents were already there when they arrived, and they waved the two of them over to sit with them.

'Had a good night?' Helen asked conversationally, though it did not take a genius to figure out the real question she was trying to ask.

'Could always be better,' Hermione answered, taking a sip of her coffee. 'But not bad.'

Helen nodded, smiling warmly. 'Excited to go home?'

Hermione shrugged. 'Sort of.'

'Why "sort of"?'

'I don't know,' Hermione replied with a sigh. 'It just seems…jarring. The past month here…it's felt so normal. And the moment we get home…we'll be thrown right back into all the Ministry and rebuilding… And plus, it'll be almost August, and if we decide to return to school…that'll be in a month.'

'Going to miss the slow-paced life?' Josh asked, grinning.

'At least a little,' Hermione admitted.

Helen took a bite of a piece of vegemite toast. ' _Are_ you going back to school?'

Hermione looked absently out of the window. 'I don't know,' she said after a minute. 'If you'd asked me two weeks ago, I'd probably say "no". But now…maybe.'

'What brought about the change?' Helen asked, sounding curious.

Hermione sighed. 'James,' she whispered her reply.

'You mean…what he's been doing with you?' Hermione gave a small nod in affirmation.

'Quite incredible, that man, really,' Josh commented. 'I've never heard anyone with no background try to learn psychotherapy out of a book. Granted, he's not perfect or as good as a trained psychologist…but impressive nonetheless.'

'Wouldn't you do the same if your best mate was struggling and there were no resources in your world to help him?' Helen posited. 'Or your children?'

'I'll be honest. As much as I would certainly want to help them, I would probably fear doing more harm than good,' Josh replied after a short pause. 'And if I could do a third as well as him, I would already be impressed with myself. And that's with having taken classes on psychology in university.'

'You'd probably be good at it, too,' Harry said kindly. 'You've taken classes on it…I'm sure you know what you're doing.'

Josh shook his head. 'On theory, yes. Practising it is a whole different matter. You could learn everything about teeth off a book, but that doesn't suddenly make you a dentist. Your dad has talent there…maybe he should go to muggle university and get a full professional training. Your world is seriously lacking in mental health resources, isn't it?'

Hermione shook her head. 'There simply aren't any.'

'He could change the world, that man,' Helen said with a grin. 'He should consider it.'

'Maybe you should talk to him,' Harry suggested, actually quite liking that idea over his father becoming an Auror again. 'Convince him to do it.'

Helen and Josh exchanged a conspiratorial look, and Harry could not help but be amazed by the uncanny similarity their expressions bore to Hermione's when they did that.

'Sure, doesn't sound like a bad idea,' Helen agreed. 'We'll corner him during the hike. Speaking of…are you two ready? Your bags packed? You might be too exhausted to pack when we get back, and we're leaving in the morning tomorrow.'

'I did,' Hermione replied immediately. 'Harry, though…'

She gave Harry a sideways squint, and Harry felt his face warm up a little. 'I…packed a little.'

'Uh-huh. Two shirts and one pair of jeans.'

Hermione's parents laughed and shooed them off to do their packing after they had finished breakfast. Harry threw his dirty clothes rather carelessly into his expanded bag. That earned him several disapproving looks from Hermione, though she did not say anything about it besides a few huffs.

When they returned downstairs, James, Lily, and Sirius were all already there. Sirius was sitting on one of the sofas in the lobby, and Harry noticed that he seemed a little gaunter than he usually did in the mornings. James had his back to them and was talking quietly with him, while Lily was in conversation with Hermione's parents a distance away.

Sirius waved to them, and James turned around and smiled before standing up and walking over. He gave Hermione a quick hug and ruffled Harry's hair.

'All right there?'

'Yeah, not bad.'

'That's good. Ready to go?'

'We're packed and everything,' Harry answered.

'Great,' James said, turning to Sirius and jerking his head in the others' direction. 'Let's go.'

The seven of them walked a short distance to the nearby metro station and piled onto a crowded morning train before getting off and changing onto a ferry. The ship steamed out from the wharfs and past the Opera House. As they did, scores of tourists scrambled towards the right side of the ferry, almost climbing over each other to take a picture.

'Oi, Prongs, come here,' Sirius called from the bow of the boat.

'What's up?'

'Just come.'

James looked slightly confused, but nonetheless stood up and walked over to Sirius, the sea wind coming over the harbour making his hair even wilder.

'You know that muggle movie we saw?' Sirius asked, near-shouting to make himself heard over the deafening gusts. 'The one with the sinking ship?'

'You mean _Titanic_?'

'Yeah, sure,' Sirius said. 'You know the…pose…they did at the bow of the ship?'

Harry, suddenly realising where this was going, did not know whether to snort at Sirius's ridiculousness, laugh at his silliness, cry in embarrassment, or all three. He glanced over at Hermione, and she looked like she was about to explode in giggles.

 _Are they serious?_ she mouthed to Harry, giving a tiny snort of laughter.

 _Looks like it_ , Harry mouthed back.

Harry turned back towards his father and godfather. Sirius stood at the bow, his arms outstretched. James came up behind him and placed his hands on his hips. They managed to hold that position for a second before both exploded in laughs, red in the face. Lily had her face in her hands, shaking her head in disapproval, while Hermione's parents were giggling amongst themselves.

They slowly sailed across the harbour. Sirius and James sat down with Lily and Hermione's parents, and they looked to be teasing the men for their exploits. Sirius seemed to be taking it in good nature, and the look on his now slightly tanned face was one of genuine mirth.

The ship docked, and the passengers began filing off. The seven of them were some of the last to disembark and walked a short distance along the main road before turning onto a small, tree-lined walking path.

Helen and Josh took point, James sandwiched between them, Lily following right behind, no doubt cornering him as they had promised to do at breakfast earlier. That left Harry and Hermione, along with Sirius, to bring up the rear.

'Can't believe we're going home tomorrow, eh?' Sirius asked as they walked, the sounds of people and cars fading as they proceeded further into the park.

'It feels like no time had passed,' Harry admitted. 'I don't feel like I'm ready to go back.'

Sirius's eyes unfocused for a split second before quickly returning back to normal. 'Are any of us ready to go back?' he asked. Harry could detect the glumness coming through in his voice.

'I…I'm sure it'll be fine, Sirius,' Hermione said quickly. 'We'll figure out something for you… You won't have to go back there – '

'Thank you,' Sirius said, cutting her off. 'We've talked about this already with James and Lily.'

The unspoken desire to stop the line of conversation was not lost on anyone, and Hermione looked a little despaired for having brought up the subject. Harry gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she squeezed back.

'Did you like your time here?' Harry asked, trying to switch the subject.

'It was fun,' Sirius replied with a shrug. 'All things considered.'

With that uncomfortable end to the conversation, they walked on in silence. Up ahead, Lily, James, and Hermione's parents were deep in conversation, though Harry could not discern what they were saying. Helen and Josh looked excited, James looked a little uncomfortable, and Lily pensive.

'How are things going with James?' Sirius suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

Harry had not expected Sirius to be the one to broach upon that subject again, and the question caught him off-guard. Besides, what was he supposed to say? ' _Good_ '?

'Uh…fine,' he replied a few seconds later.

'Do you feel things are improving?' Sirius probed.

Harry withheld a sigh. Now, he was the one who wanted to change the topic. They were supposed to be out having fun, enjoying their last day in Australia before they had to return to reality. This was, frankly, the last topic that he wanted to discuss.

'Maybe,' he answered simply.

'That's better than nothing,' Sirius said. 'You know, it really does work, what James is doing.'

Harry shrugged. 'Maybe,' he repeated.

The conversation ended and they walked on. Harry realised, however, as they continued through the forest, that Sirius was the only other person who had any idea what they were going through. All the lingering questions and doubts that had haunted him…perhaps he was the one who could put them to rest.

He drew breath sharply. 'It really gets better?'

Sirius nodded slowly. 'Yes, it does. Slowly. You'll have to give it time…but it will get better.'

He took a deep breath before continuing. 'Not everything goes away…not when they've been with you for so long…I think James and I have both accepted that some things will be around forever. Time heals, though. Eventually, you'll come to a point when these things don't consciously bother you anymore.'

'Is that where you are now?' Hermione asked timidly, seeming unsure whether she was treading on forbidden territory.

Sirius did not seem to take offence, however. 'Maybe,' he answered. 'The nightmares don't come as often. Being in a cubicle in a public toilet doesn't induce flashbacks of being…being locked in a cell…anymore. I haven't really wanted a drink since…that night… Maybe I'm there, maybe I'm not. But things are better than they were before James intervened…and I'm grateful for him.'

'Do you think…you know…James could do this for real?' Hermione asked. 'Professionally? Not just for us.'

Sirius looked a little puzzled. 'Like…as a Healer of sorts? For the mind?'

Hermione nodded. 'A "Mind Healer"? At St Mungo's, maybe. Many witches and wizards could probably use that kind of help…especially after the war. There're so many people who fought the Death Eaters…or were tortured by them…or were thrown into Azkaban for no reason at all…could he…'

'If that's what he wants, I'm sure he can,' Sirius asserted immediately. 'And I'll be his advocate.'

They neared the end of the walking path on a cliff overlooking the sea. They had seemingly fallen far behind the others, and they were already standing together by the railings, talking. The three of them approached slowly, not feeling any need to rush. As they neared, the foursome's conversation slowly became discernible.

'You'll need to get a psychology degree,' Helen was saying to James. 'It's a three-year course – where I went to university – anyway. It'll be a good idea to do some specialty training after you graduate, too. That'll take a year or two depending on your field…'

'I have a friend who's now a professor at University College London,' Josh supplied. 'That's right in the middle of the city, so you'll never be too far away from anyone. I can ask him about what the entry requirements are, but for someone as intelligent as you, I think it'll be pretty smooth sailing.'

'Well, now you're making me blush,' James replied with an audible chuckle.

'Careful, guys,' Lily chortled. 'You'll inflate his head again.'

'Who, mine?' James asked, sounding mock scandalised.

Lily punched him on the forearm. 'Yes, yours. Will you do it, then?'

There was a long moment of silence. 'Yeah, I'll do it,' James said quietly.

The other three erupted into cheers. Lily gave James a long kiss, while Josh and Helen hugged him and slapped him on the back. They turned around and saw Sirius, Harry, and Hermione coming up the path towards them. Before they knew what happened, they were swept up in the celebratory embraces, too.

Harry felt a silly but content celebratory grin come over his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Enormous thank-you's to Aani and maschl, without whose help this chapter would have been nowhere near as polished.
> 
> Important: James knows about as much as I know about PTSD and how to treat it (possibly at this point, a little more). He is not supposed to be a perfect therapist or even a good one. He is someone who is trying his best to help a friend in a world with no conception of mental health (remember that 'mind healers' are purely fanon) and where going to a muggle psychologist is completely out of the question for obvious reasons of Statute of Secrecy and believability.
> 
> If you or someone you know is suffering from PTSD or any mental health condition, please do not take this story as a guide or even a suggestion on how to treat it! Unlike the wizarding world, in the regular world, there are resources available that can help you. Please take care, especially during these recent times.


	14. Homeward Bound

It is an interesting thing, that when one did not want something to end, time passed more quickly.

The journey back to London was one of those times. A part of Harry was excited to be going home, yet at the same time, returning to Britain was the last thing he wanted. He knew, of course, that their month in Australia was but a temporary respite, that sooner or later, they would have to get on with the rest of their lives, but that did not make him any more excited at the prospect of returning to that shattered reality of home.

He could sleep very little, even in the rather comfortable reclining Business Class seats. Hermione, too, spent much of the journey tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. Nor were they the only ones to feel this way. With each hour that passed, the look on Sirius's face turned more dreadful, and it was not difficult to guess what had him so distressed. Returning to Grimmauld Place after nearly three weeks of escape must have brought some sense of impending doom.

They touched down in the early hours of the morning. They had no bags – the vast majority of Hermione's parents' things had been sent back magically weeks before, and whatever was left were split between the others' enchanted bags. Thanks to them travelling light, they sped through passport control and customs in no time at all.

Sirius was silent the whole time, looking more and more forlorn as they got on one of the first trains into the city. Harry tried to engage him in conversation, but he would never say much more than simple 'yes' and 'no', sometimes not even saying anything and opting to grunt instead.

James and Lily tried to reassure him that they were not, in fact, going to Grimmauld Place. Their words, however, did not seem to have much of an effect on Sirius, who did not appear to even be hearing them. Giving up, they instead began talking with Helen and Josh about James's university plans. As happy as he was about his father's ambitions, Harry could not help but feel concern. If James was going to spend more time away, working on his studies, would he have time still to help Sirius? Or Hermione? Or himself?

They reached Paddington station, and Sirius slumped further into his seat as the train came to a halt, not wanting to get off. The train slowly emptied, and soon enough, they were the last ones still on board.

'Come on, Sirius,' Lily coaxed softly. 'Let's go.'

Sirius said nothing in response to her and remained steadfastly in his seat, looking out of the window with a lost expression on his seat.

'The train's going to turn around soon,' James said. 'It's going to bring you back to the airport.'

'Better than going…back,' Sirius murmured darkly.

James and Lily exchanged an inscrutable look. 'We've told you already. You won't be going back there.'

Sirius turned and looked at them, wariness in every line of his face. 'I'd rather stay in the airport than return to Number Twelve.'

Lily took a breath. 'James and I have told you…we're going to – '

'Excuse me,' came a voice from down the aisle. Harry's head snapped up to see the conductor standing in the aisle, an annoyed look on his face. 'This is the terminus of this service. This train is going on to the depot. You need to get off right now.'

'Come on, Sirius,' Lily said, more firmly this time. 'We need to go. Don't worry, we're not going…there.'

Reluctantly, Sirius stood up, his shoulders slouched and his head bowed. They walked down the aisle towards the carriage door, and James muttered an apology to the conductor before they disembarked.

Robotically, James and Lily guided Sirius towards the Underground station, the others following close behind. It was still quite early in the morning, so thankfully, the trains were not crowded at all. James and Lily tried to soothe Sirius as the ride continued, but it was, again, a wasted effort. With each stop that passed, he grew ever more gloomy.

The train arrived at King's Cross, and Sirius stood up shakily. Harry and Hermione, too, got their things ready, preparing to disembark, but surprisingly, James, Lily, and Hermione's parents remained sitting, seeming like they had not even noticed that it was their stop.

'Aren't we getting off?' Sirius asked, his depressed voice now imbued with confusion.

James shook his head. 'No. For the last time, Sirius, we aren't going back to Number Twelve.'

'Then where _are_ we going?' Sirius demanded, his brow furrowing.

'Take a seat. You'll find out.'

Sirius's eyes glinted with what looked like hope for a split second before they dulled again. 'Is this a prank?' he asked, dejected.

James's face grew stern and serious. 'Did you think we're the type of people to pull this kind of prank on you? I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy.'

Sirius still appeared doubtful, but sat down once again between James and Lily. The train doors closed, and they pulled out of King's Cross, continuing east.

And now Harry, too, was confused. Where were they going? It was not to Hermione's house, for they would have had disembarked at King's Cross, too, to change onto a northbound train. Harry tried to silently ask Hermione what was going on, but she, too, looked puzzled. He tried shooting Lily a questioning glance next, but she simply smiled that mysterious smile of hers and said nothing.

They got off four or five stations later and transferred, Hermione's parents, surprisingly, leading the way. They got on another train and rode for twenty or so minutes before disembarking in a part of the city that Harry had never been to.

'Where are we?' Harry asked Hermione in a whisper.

'We should be around…Canary Wharf,' she answered. 'Though where exactly…I have no idea.'

The seven of them walked for ten or so minutes, Helen and Josh leading the way. Finally, they stopped in front of a modern-looking complex. Helen walked up to the guard standing by the gate and said a few words to him before he pushed open the door and let them through.

'What is this?' Sirius asked. 'Where are we?'

'Home, of course,' James replied, turning to Sirius with a grin on his face. 'You didn't think we were going to let you languish in that miserable place, did you?'

Sirius furrowed his brows in apparent confusion. 'Wh-What do you mean, "home"?'

'The place where you live,' James said. 'You won't have to go back to Number Twelve ever again.'

Sirius's eyes flitted between Lily, James, Helen, and Josh, widening in realisation. 'You…you bought a _house_? When? How?'

'Two flats, actually,' Lily clarified. 'One for James and I and one for you. They're just three doors apart from each other.'

'James and Lily told us about…about how you hated it in your mother's old house,' Helen explained. 'So I got in contact with an old friend from university who's working for a development firm now. She managed to put us at the front of the queue for these flats. And at a reduced price, too.'

'You…you bought _me_ a house?' Sirius gasped, awed.

'We paid for it,' James replied. 'With money from our vault. Well, I suppose some of it is also _your_ money, since…you know.'

Sirius's jaw hung open, his pupils wide and unfocused. His mouth opened and closed, trying to form words, but none came out.

Helen jerked her head towards the building. 'Shall we?'

James guided Sirius forward, a wide, mischievous grin on his face. Harry, too, was in shock as he and Hermione followed them mutely. A part of him even felt irrationally…vexed…that they had kept all this from them for so long. He was thankful for them doing this for Sirius, for sure, but could they not have reassured him sooner that he was not returning to Grimmauld Place, sparing him the days of anguish over that prospect?

Harry tried to shake that thought as they proceeded through the automatic glass doors into a modern lobby. James had obviously not been malicious in his secret-keeping, only perhaps rather insensitive. As they walked slowly towards the lifts, Lily slid a thick leather-bound folder out of her bag and opened it. She flipped through the papers inside, finding and taking out one sheet from near the bottom of the folder.

'It'll be the sixth floor,' she said as they all squeezed in. Hermione reached across and pressed the button. The lift doors closed, and they slowly started moving upwards.

When the door opened, they found themselves standing in a small lobby. A large window was installed opposite the elevator, and it afforded them an incredible view across the Thames and to the city on the other side. The space was furnished with two long sofas and was decorated by two small trees on either side of the window, and a crystal lamp hung from the ceiling.

'This way,' Lily said, pointing to her right.

They walked down a long corridor, lined on either side by dark wooden doors. Lily led them down, nearly to the end, and stopped in front of a door to her left. She reached into her bag once again and produced a small key.

'This is you, Sirius.'

Lily inserted the key into the keyhole and turned. The lock clicked open, and she stepped aside, giving Sirius a small grin. He walked up to the door and smiled sincerely back at Lily. He took a deep breath and depressing the door handle before pushing the door open.

They stepped into a small foyer, which opened into a compact but elegantly furnished lounge. There was a sofa along the back wall flanked by two armchairs. Opposite it, on a chest of drawers, sat a large television.

Sirius walked forward. To their left, the entrance hall led into a short corridor. The door at the end was open, and it led into a clean-looking bathroom. Another door sat closed on the right-hand wall, and Sirius made his way up to it, pushing it open.

It was a bedroom. It was not huge, but it was cosy and far more open and breathable than the oppressive space that Sirius had slept in in Grimmauld Place. The curtains over the windows were open, and the wide window, like the one in the elevator lobby, afforded an incredible view over the river. Several sailboats and cruise ships glided past, and from this vantage point, the people and cars on the opposite bank looked like miniscule ants, moving purposefully and anonymously as they went about their lives.

Sirius turned around, his eyes glistening, his expression lined with emotion. His eyes flitted between every one of the rest of them, and for the second time today, he was fully at a loss for what to say.

'Do you like it?' Lily asked.

Sirius swallowed and nodded. 'Yes,' he answered, his voice shaking.

'I'm glad.'

'Don't worry about the rest of your things,' James added. 'I'll go to Grimmauld Place and get them for you. Just tell me what you need.'

Sirius nodded again. 'Thank you…all of you…for getting me out of that place…' He looked at Helen and Josh. 'And thank you, too…you didn't have to do this…'

'Nonsense,' Josh said, brushing it off. 'Once James told us about how much you hated that place, we couldn't have just let you go back there. Even if we weren't friends, as a medical professional, I'd be obliged to find a way to help you get out of that situation.'

'And you managed to keep…all this…under wraps for…how long?'

'Two-and-a-half weeks,' James replied with a grin. 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, mate. I wanted this to be a surprise, but…I probably should've been more upfront with this…told you that you were going to a hotel or…something.'

Sirius laughed with genuine happiness, though Harry could hear that he was holding back tears. 'No, not at all…don't worry about it…thank you…thank you all.' He suddenly turned to Harry. 'And you two…did you know about this?'

Hermione shook her head. 'We were just as surprised as you were.'

'Sorry,' Helen said. 'We didn't want to risk the surprise getting out, so we didn't want to tell anyone else.'

'Do you not trust us, Mum?' Hermione asked, though there was no real accusation in her voice.

'Of course we do, dear,' Helen placated. 'But…but we wanted everyone to be surprised, that's all.'

Hermione snorted and glared at her mother playfully. Helen rolled her eyes at her daughter and looked over at James with an amused expression.

'I remember that you bought something in one of the duty-free shops back in Australia that we might be interested in now?'

James chortled and reached into his own bag. He dug around for a few seconds before withdrawing a small bottle of champagne.

'One toast,' he said, looking sideways at Sirius for a split second. He raised his wand and conjured seven flutes before pouring a little bit of the drink into each one.

'To Sirius, to warm his new flat,' James proclaimed, raising his glass, everyone following his lead. 'To Helen and Josh, for organising all this on an impossibly tight schedule. To Harry and Hermione, for having finally stopped dancing around each other and snogged. To Lily, for being smoking hot and brutally intelligent. And of course, to me, for being _me_.'

Lily backhanded James on the chest without malice, and they all downed the sweet drink in one gulp, laughing and smiling as carefree as a group of schoolchildren on a Friday afternoon.

* * *

Harry was the last to get out of the taxi when it parked in front of Hermione's home. They were back, but Harry did not feel like he was home. In the past weeks, this house had been his and Hermione's space, a private, sacred place where they could be themselves, could laugh together, could cry together, could be together without worry, hidden away from the rest of the world. It felt like their home, and it was more than just a building.

But now, it was different. As happy as he was for Hermione that her parents had returned, and as much as he liked Helen and Josh, it felt like the house had returned to being just that – a house. The familiar and intimate atmosphere of it was gone, replaced by a welcome, but somehow jarring, normality.

He lingered behind a little as Helen and Josh went up to the door. Hermione turned around and beckoned him to her, and he complied, albeit with some reluctance.

'Feeling all right?' she whispered, wrapping her arm around his waist.

Harry shrugged. 'Fine.'

Hermione studied him for a second, her eyes narrowing. 'Something feels off.'

'I'm fine,' Harry repeated, smiling at her. Thankfully, she simply grinned back and did not question any more.

'We're home,' Helen breathed as she pushed open the front door. Once again, Harry felt a little reluctant to step inside, but Hermione guided him forward into the house, and he complied.

The house was exactly how they had left it nearly a month before, the only difference being that every surface was covered in a thin layer of dust. Hermione drew her wand and flicked it. All the dust picked itself off the furniture, appliances, and floor before vanishing into thin air.

'It's good to be back, isn't it?' Josh said.

'It's good to be back,' Helen echoed, and Harry hummed in agreement.

They turned the corner into the lounge. Ten or so boxes were stacked messily directly in front of the hearth. One of them was so precariously perched that Harry thought it might topple over. The wizards from Magical Maintenance, it seemed, had not put too much care into their work – not that Harry could necessarily blame them. They were, in all likelihood, more than inundated already with work towards the reconstruction of the country.

'Magic is quite helpful sometimes, isn't it?' Josh commented with a chuckle. 'Is there a spell that can put all these things in place?'

'No, that there isn't,' Hermione replied, grinning. 'That part will have to be done by hand.'

'Shame,' Helen said. 'We can deal with these later, though. It's almost one. You must be hungry. I know I am.'

Hermione nodded. 'A little.'

'Is there anything in the fridge?'

'No,' Hermione answered. 'We…we didn't really cook when we were staying here.'

'Lived off take-out?' Helen asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Yeah,' Hermione replied, sounding a little sheepish.

Unexpectedly, Helen began to laugh. 'I remember when I was your age…when I first started living on my own. It was at least two months of take-out almost every meal before I started regularly cooking for myself.'

'I was the same,' Josh agreed. 'Though it might've taken me three months or more, actually. I was _far_ lazier than your Mum ever was.'

Helen rolled her eyes at her husband before turning to Harry and Hermione, her eyebrows still raised. 'So, are we going to continue the proud family tradition?'

'The kebab place in town isn't half bad,' Harry offered, exchanging a look with Hermione. She rolled her eyes in a way that was eerily similar to her mother, and Harry felt a smile come over his face at the familiar and endearing act.

'It really isn't,' Helen agreed, reaching for her mobile. 'What do you all want?'

'The classic,' Hermione replied immediately. 'With salad and sauce, obviously. And chips.'

'That's…quite a lot,' Helen said, raising an eyebrow. 'Are you sure you'd be able to finish that?'

'If it's too much, I'll just give some to Harry.'

'What am I, a pet that you feed?' Harry asked, putting on an insulted look.

Hermione snorted. 'Oh, shut up. If I don't voluntarily share with you, you'll just steal from me. I can't win either way.'

'You steal from me, too,' Harry protested. 'Don't act so innocent.'

'When you two are done flirting,' Helen interrupted just as Hermione was about to retort. 'Could you please order? I've already forgotten your overly specific order.'

Hermione blushed, and Harry shot her a smug smirk, claiming victory, receiving a smack in return. Helen handed her her mobile, and she punched in the number, still pink in the face.

An hour of laughter – and eating like four hungry cavemen – later, Harry was stuffed to the limit thanks to a veritable culinary tsunami of meat, vegetables, sauce, and chips. The four of them, despite having two medical professionals amongst them who probably should have known better, lounged lazily on the sofas in front of the television, watching a movie that Hermione had put on.

It was just like the old times, but also unlike the old times, Harry thought, as he and Hermione took over the big sofa, lying together under _their_ fuzzy blanket, holding one another loosely. Things may be different now than they were even mere weeks ago, but he had one constant in his life, and he would be forever thankful for her.

Despite what he had initially thought and felt, this place still was a home, after all.

* * *

It had been two weeks since they had returned, and James found himself in a crowded lecture hall at University College London, bored out of his mind. He heard without listening as the professor spoke on and on, and tried to pay attention despite the monotonous, droning voice of the small, grey-haired woman.

He had somehow gotten lucky and was offered a place at the university, despite applying for admission only weeks before the start of term. A part of him suspected that Minerva or Kingsley had somehow pushed him through way after the application deadline – he had had to go to Hogwarts to get a muggle school record for himself, after all. When he had told Minerva about what he was planning to do and why, she had gushed so much praise for him that even _he_ had begun feeling embarrassed.

It had not been so long since James had left Hogwarts that he had forgotten how to be a student, but his good study habits – habits he only formed in sixth year, to be fair – were already far along the path of decline. As if he could make things any worse for himself this afternoon, he had forgotten to read the assigned textbook pages, and was having trouble following what little of the lecture that he _could_ process as a result. He shuddered at the thought of what Lily's reaction would be to this if she found out that he was neglecting his studies on the second day of classes. It would likely not be pretty at all.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the lecture concluded, and none too soon. James checked his timetable. This had been, thankfully, his last class of the day. He rose from the uncomfortable chair that he had spent the last two hours in and shouldered his bag, joining the wave of students now streaming towards the door.

Groups of students were congregating in the entrance hall, talking amongst themselves about some theatre company that was apparently coming to campus tonight. Even if he had an interest, he could not go. He had to go to Harry and Hermione tonight, and those commitments came before anything else.

The two had both improved in the four weeks since they had started working together. A part of him had feared that things would regress for all of them following their return from Australia, but these last two weeks back home seemed to disprove that fear. Judging by Harry and Hermione's own reports, they were improving. Their nightmares were getting less frequent, and they simply _looked_ better, more at ease, and more relaxed, not just when they were around each other, but when they were not, too.

James pushed open the glass doors and stepped outside onto the main quad, absorbed in his own thoughts. He almost did not hear when someone called his name.

'James!'

He stopped and turned towards where the voice had come from. 'Josh? What're you doing here?'

'To see you, of course. Honour-bound to check in on you after pushing you into whole university thing,' Josh Granger said, walking up to him. James stuck out his hand, and he shook it. 'How have the first few days of classes been?'

'Far harder than I had ever expected,' James replied honestly. 'Puts our seventh year to shame.'

'Tell me about it,' Josh said as they slowly walked towards the main gate. 'Going from preparatory school to university was the biggest shock I had in my life up until that point.'

James snorted as they turned out onto the street. 'I haven't the slightest clue how they expect you to not fall asleep when they're talking in a voice that's literally putting you into a trance.'

'Ah,' Josh chortled knowingly. 'The first-year university experience would never be complete without one of _those_ classes, of course.'

'How they expect us to pass is beyond me,' James muttered.

'Oh, you'll be fine,' Josh assured. 'Just make sure to read your textbooks before class and revise often. You _have_ been doing that, haven't you?'

Jams looked at the other man sheepishly. 'I…uh…I might've forgotten to read last night.'

Josh tsked in amused disapproval. 'Well, I've made that mistake more than a few times when I first started out,' he admitted. 'In secondary, I used to score top marks without putting in any effort. Thought that I could do the same at Edinburgh…it didn't end well. Helen, though…she came in with good habits and adapted so much quicker than I did. She even managed to finish her first year with honours! I'm glad Hermione inherited that aspect of her.'

'I used to have good habits,' James said. 'Lily was the one who hammered them into me. And then I forgot all of them…Lily's going to flay me if she finds out.'

'What would we idiot blokes be without the women in our lives, eh?' Josh jested, James nodding in agreement. 'Want to go for a cup of tea or coffee?'

'I'm free, but don't you have appointments?'

'Not today,' Josh replied, stopping and turning to push open the door to a small coffee house. 'It's a slow day, so Helen's handling it by herself. You're coming tonight, aren't you?'

James nodded. 'Every other night.'

'How are they?' Josh asked, concern coming through in his voice.

'Better,' James answered, honestly glad that he could say that. 'They both seem to be having fewer nightmares…the numerical ranks that they're giving for fear triggers and memories are going down slowly. It'll take more time, but there's progress.'

'They even look better,' Josh agreed as a waiter came over to their table. 'They're coming out of their room more…talking more…their faces look healthier. What do you want, by the way?'

'Just regular coffee, please,' James responded. 'None of the weird stuff for me.'

'Your loss,' Josh said. 'A long espresso, please. And a regular coffee.'

The waiter took down their order and left, and the two men turned back towards each other. 'You're going to continue doing this when they go back to school, right?'

James nodded. 'I'll keep doing it until they think they don't need it anymore. I'll see it through to the end. If, Merlin forbid, things don't get better…I'll find another way…or I'll keep doing it for the rest of my life.'

'They're already improving as it is,' Josh refuted. 'As you said, it will take time, but you also will succeed in the end. You have faith in that, right?'

'I do,' James affirmed.

'Then there's no reason to think about the worst-case scenarios,' Josh concluded. 'You're good at what you're doing already and you're always learning more. Plus, they're making good progress. Think about positive outcomes, not negative ones.'

'Right, positive,' James repeated. 'Things will be fine, right?'

'Things will be fine,' Josh assured. 'Harry and Hermione have gotten so much better already. You can just see it, feel it. There's only going up from here.'

He suddenly leaned forward and clapped James on the shoulder. 'And in three years, you've got the whole magical world to change. In fifty years, witches and wizards will come to remember you as the one who revolutionised medicine in your world. If that's not a thought to be motivated by…'

'I don't care about fame, really,' James replied, surprising even himself. For the longest time, he had wanted to prove himself, be remembered…but in the last few weeks, he had realised once and for all that there were greater things, more important things.

'I just hope that I can help someone,' he continued, far more quietly. 'See someone's life change for the better because of something I did.'

'In time, you will,' Josh said. 'You won't change just one life, you'll change dozens, maybe hundreds. You've already helped three people who would otherwise have had to suffer through everything all on their own, and I can tell you, as one parent to another, you helping my daughter has helped me, too.'

They sipped the rest of their drinks in contemplative silence, James looking out the window and watching the traffic go past. Josh's last statement had been right. The accomplishment and happiness that he felt in his heart was not just a product of his attempts at therapy yielding successful outcomes. It came also from the fact that Harry, Sirius, and Hermione were healthier and happier, that he had played some part in helping them step out from the dark cloud of their pasts.

And as Josh had said, there were many more out there that he could help, more lives he could change. He was only at the start of the road, and there was still a long and fruitful journey ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enormous thank-you's to Aani and maschl, without whose help this chapter would have been nowhere near as polished.
> 
> Important: James knows about as much as I know about PTSD and how to treat it (possibly at this point, a little more). He is not supposed to be a perfect therapist or even a good one. He is someone who is trying his best to help a friend in a world with no conception of mental health (remember that 'mind healers' are purely fanon) and where going to a muggle psychologist is completely out of the question for obvious reasons of Statute of Secrecy and believability.
> 
> If you or someone you know is suffering from PTSD or any mental health condition, please do not take this story as a guide or even a suggestion on how to treat it! Unlike the wizarding world, in the regular world, there are resources available that can help you. Please take care, especially during these recent times.


	15. Daybreak Again

August passed quickly, and before Harry knew it, it was the day of their return to Hogwarts. He and Hermione had initially been doubtful about whether they should even return, but at the end, they had chosen to go. It seemed like a disrespect of the memories of those who had fallen to not return now and finish the education that they had fought to preserve.

He and Hermione woke up early that morning, partly out of habit and partly out of excitement. They got ready quickly and went downstairs to get breakfast. When they reached the kitchen, they saw that Helen was already up and was sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea.

'Good morning,' she said brightly. 'All ready?'

Hermione nodded excitedly. 'We've been packed since Saturday.'

'Great. Sorry we can't go with you. Josh's already left for an emergency. It'll be a busy day for both of us.'

'It's okay, Mum,' Hermione replied, sitting down at the breakfast table. 'We'll see each other again soon.'

'Make sure to call us often,' Helen said, wagging her finger. 'You don't have any excuse not to, now that James has made each of us one of those mirrors.'

'I'll call,' Hermione huffed. 'I'm not a first-year, Mum.'

'You'll always be a little girl to your mother,' Helen teased.

'Mum, Harry's here!'

'And so? He's used to this by now.' She looked at Harry, wiggling her eyebrows. 'Aren't you, Harry?'

'I am,' Harry replied, giving Hermione a mischievous look.

'Well, there you have it,' Helen said with a shrug. 'When are James and Lily coming to get you?'

'At ten, they said.'

Helen nodded. 'We'll be gone by then…do keep James from destroying the house, will you?'

'We'll try our best,' Harry chortled. 'No promises.'

'Best I could hope for, I suppose,' Helen murmured. 'You should eat some breakfast. There's some toast.'

Harry and Hermione rose, fixing themselves breakfast. They ate slowly, holding hands under the table and not talking very much. Harry looked out the window. They sky outside was overcast, but the weather seemed to have never reflected his mood less. He felt joyful and content, and the warmth from where his and Hermione's hands made contact spread through the rest of his body.

Helen left as they were still eating, giving them each a hug in farewell. Harry was going to miss her, even though he knew that they would see each other again soon. She was not his own mother, of course, but with how much time he had spent with them these last few months, Hermione's parents had become some odd mixture between good friends and adopted parents to him, and he was sad to say goodbye, even temporarily.

At ten-to-ten, they went upstairs and grabbed their enchanted bags. After more than a year of relying on these, trunks simply felt clumsy and impractical. Why choose a large, heavy container when he could fit the same amount of things – or more – into a smaller, lighter, and far more portable backpack? It was not as if Hogwarts _demanded_ that they must bring a trunk.

Right on time, the Floo flared, and out stepped James and Lily.

'Hello, guys,' Lily greeted warmly, hugging Harry and Hermione. 'All set and ready to go?'

'I spend every waking hour with _Hermione_ , Mum,' Harry joked. 'You think I'd still be alive if I weren't ready to go?'

'Where would we be without the valiant women in our lives whipping us into shape, Harry?' James replied with a smirk.

'You'd still be repeating your fifth year, that's where,' Lily said, rolling her eyes. 'Ignore the children, Hermione. Let's get going, or we'll get to the station less than an hour early. Can't have that, can we?'

'Not at all,' Hermione agreed with a smirk.

James and Harry exchanged an amused look as Lily threw a pinch of Floo Powder into the fireplace. 'Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters!'

They stepped through one-by-one onto a deserted platform. Deserted, that was, except for Sirius, who was standing a short distance away from the Floos. A wide smile came over his face when he saw them, and he rushed forward, hugging Harry and Hermione.

'Long time no see,' Sirius said as he released Hermione. 'How are you?'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'It's only been a week since we last saw each other, Sirius.'

'Oh…well, time is relative, anyway,' Sirius replied with a wave of his hand. 'How have you been doing?'

'Decently,' Hermione answered. 'And you?'

'Not bad,' Sirius echoed. 'How have your nights been?' he asked more quietly.

'Getting better,' Harry replied honestly. 'The last time I had a really bad one was…more than two weeks ago.'

'That's good news.'

Harry nodded. 'James has been getting better at what he's doing, too.'

'He has,' Sirius agreed. 'He's taking it more slowly now, just once every other day. Honestly, I prefer that to working at it every morning. Looks like a university education isn't being wasted on him.'

'Thank Lily,' James muttered. 'She's the one who rebuilt my study habits back up from scratch.'

'James, being humble?' Lily ribbed, shaking her head. 'I didn't actually do very much. You're motivated and worked hard on your own.'

'It's more the fear, you know,' James said, looking at Harry and then quickly at Hermione with a raised eyebrow. 'If I came home with anything less than an "A"…who knows what she'd do.'

'Nothing,' Lily huffed. 'It's okay to fail at things sometimes.'

They spent a few more minutes talking, but soon, the platform began to fill up with new arrivals. Harry and Hermione, in their role as Head Boy and Girl, were obliged to help the first-years onto the train. Five minutes before the train was due to depart, they ran into Ron and Ginny, accompanied by Mrs Weasley, with whom they exchanged polite but somewhat distant greetings.

The train horn sounded with two minutes left to departure, and Harry and Hermione exchanged final hugs goodbye with James, Lily, and Sirius. It was the usual – promises to call often on the mirrors and not to get into too much trouble – but those words carried so much more…meaning…when they came from his own parents, rather than Mrs Weasley.

'Make sure to be careful,' James whispered into their ears as he gave Hermione a quick hug. 'Minerva would be rather…hacked off…if she discovered that the Head Boy and Girl were…up to no good…in their quarters.'

'We won't be up to any no good!' Hermione squeaked, scandalised. She blushed bright red, but suddenly, a mischievous look came over her face. 'I'll have you know, what we may or may not be up to is _very_ good.'

Now, it was James's turn to redden in embarrassment, and Hermione bore a triumphant look on her face at her 'accomplishment'.

'You really brought that down on yourselves with that,' Lily commented with a sigh, rolling her eyes in exasperation at Hermione and her husband both.

James seemed to have recovered from his bout of discomfort and winked at Harry and Hermione. 'I know you will be on nothing but your very, very best behaviour,' he said. 'Just wanted to make sure that you…kept it in mind. Now go on, or the train will depart without you.'

They jumped on board just as the train began to move, shutting the carriage door behind them. They stood at the window and looked back on the platform. James, Lily, and Sirius were waving at them, and they waved back.

The train began pulling out of the station, but Harry and Hermione still stood by the window, looking back towards the platform. Harry felt tears come to his eyes as his parents' and Sirius's figures slowly grew smaller and smaller in the window, before finally disappearing behind a bank of trees as the train rounded the corner.

* * *

Returning to Hogwarts was something of a mixed experience to Harry. On one hand, it was liberating to return to a semblance of normality – it gave him a sense of triumph to know that despite their best efforts, the Death Eaters had not managed to destroy all that he had loved about the magical world.

But then, there were the noticeably sparse tables in the Great Hall, the empty seats in classrooms that stuck out like a sore thumb. Colin Creevey was dead; Lavender Brown was dead; Anthony Goldstein, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Marietta Edgecombe, Tracey Davis, and even the bell-end Zacharias Smith were all dead. Not all the absences were unwelcome, though. Malfoy, Parkinson, Goyle, and several others were all imprisoned or under house arrest, awaiting trial for crimes committed during the war.

There was also the newfound uncomfortable distance that he felt towards the rest of the denizens of the castle, including – and perhaps most noticeably of all – Ron and Ginny. That was not to say that he was on bad terms with any of them, but rather that he had no idea what to say to them. What would they do, after all? Relive the war? Talk about the near full year that Hogwarts had been under siege by the Death Eaters? These were not topics that he, nor anyone else, wanted to discuss.

They saw James regularly, and sometimes Lily and Sirius, too, which always became a highlight to his days. James had kept to their schedule religiously, coming to Hogwarts every other night to continue their sessions, never missing even a single one. How he managed to do it while juggling Sirius, university, and who knows what else he was responsible for was beyond him, though James had chalked it up to pure determination.

Slowly and surely, Harry was feeling his state of mind improve. It was a gradual one, but the nightmares were increasingly rare now, and flashbacks to scenes of battle were uncommon as he walked about the castle. James was taking it slow – they had not even reached the final battle yet – but it seemed that steps forward made for one memory, one fear, forced the others to recede, too.

Other than that, Harry and Hermione kept to themselves when they could. It was difficult to do as Head Boy and Girl, and Harry almost resented McGonagall for giving them those positions. They were doing something important, he supposed, leading a reconciliation effort after the events of the previous years, but sometimes, Harry simply wanted to be back in his room, relaxing with Hermione, rather than being stuck in a late-night meeting or supervising school-wide activities…

As the autumn blended into the winter, Harry found himself checking off the days until the beginning of the Christmas Holidays. He had always looked forward to them, sure, but it was never with the sense of anticipation that he felt now. This year, it simply felt different. No longer was he going to the Burrow, being an outsider to another family's Christmas, but rather, he was returning home to his own.

The morning of their departure from Hogwarts was bitingly cold. The ground was covered in a thick layer of snow that had turned to slush thanks to a freezing rain. That did not dampen Harry's good spirits, though, as he and Hermione piled into a carriage, clad in all the coats that they had. The private carriage that they were afforded as Head Students was little consolation for the fact that they had to stand out in the cold for nearly thirty minutes, helping first- and second-years onto the train.

They were at least able to spend the majority of the train ride in peace and quiet in their own compartment while the Prefects performed their delegated duties. Hermione read silently through most of the journey, her head lying on Harry's lap, while Harry alternated between stroking her hair and looking out the window aimlessly.

Eight hours seemed to pass by in no time, and they pulled into London at seven in the evening. Harry and Hermione were in no rush, so they took their time gathering their things, and were consequently some of the last people to get off the train. The platform was nearly empty by the time they disembarked, save for James, Lily, Helen, and Josh, who were waiting with excited smiles on their faces.

'Harry! Hermione!' Lily cried, rushing forward and giving them sudden hugs. 'I've missed you!'

'It's only been a week since you last saw each other, Lily,' James said with a chuckle, coming up behind her.

'One week too long,' Lily replied as she stepped aside and allowed James to hug them. For the next few minutes, Harry felt like a teddy bear as he was passed around so that the various adults could hug him and Hermione. It would have been exhausting if it had not been somewhat enjoyable.

'Excited to be home?' Helen asked softly. Harry and Hermione nodded in reply, and Harry felt a wide smile come over his face at the use of that word. For the first time ever, he really _was_ returning home from Hogwarts, and not simply 'holidaying' somewhere for a month or two.

'Let's go, then,' James said. 'We're already the only ones left on the platform, and dinner will be cold by the time we get back if we wait any longer.'

James threw pinches of Floo Powder into one of the public hearths and they stepped through one-by-one, exiting into the living room of James and Lily's flat. They would be staying there for the Holidays, and Harry immediately could smell the delectable, homely scent of food as he stepped out and dusted the soot off his clothes.

There was the sound of footsteps. 'Everyone home?' came Sirius's voice.

'Yeah, that's the last of us,' James, who was the last to arrive, called back.

Sirius stepped out from around a doorway. His countenance looked even better than it did the last time Harry saw him. The lines on his face looked less aged, his eyes shone brighter and with even more genuine happiness, and his hair, somehow, appeared fuller and more richly coloured.

'Harry! Hermione!'

Harry beamed back. 'How are you, Sirius?'

'Horrible,' Sirius replied with a grimace that Harry could see at once was an act. 'I've been having trouble keeping my hands off the food for the last hour.'

'Ah, what a struggle,' Lily deadpanned, rolling her eyes. She turned to Harry and Hermione. 'Why don't you two put down your things and clean up? And then we can eat?'

'I'm hungry!' Sirius whined.

'You've lasted until now,' Helen pointed out. 'You can last ten minutes longer without the danger of starvation. Besides, you must've eaten close to a full meal already off what you stole when we were cooking.'

Sirius huffed without anger and returned to the kitchen. Harry and Hermione put down their things in the guest bedroom, peeled off their outside clothes, and changed into something more comfortable. They washed their hands and cleaned off the long day of travel before heading into the dining room.

The five adults were all already sat around the table, looking eager to get started. There was a pot of soup on the table, along with a shepherd's pie, roast beef, and a bowl of mashed potatoes. James had opened a bottle of white wine, and had poured a little for everyone, including allowing one small sip for Sirius. Harry and Hermione sat down together between Lily and Sirius and dug in.

The meal was not extravagant like the Hogwarts feasts, nor like the dinners that he remembered at the Burrow, but because of who had prepared it, it was far more delicious and satisfying. When they finished, Harry felt full, though not bloated, and slightly tipsy from the wine that he had drunk. He glanced over at Hermione. She had two spots of pink on her cheeks from the alcohol, and Harry could not help but laugh.

'What's so funny?' she asked.

'You.'

Hermione snorted, slightly annoyed. 'What about me?'

'Your face.'

'Are you calling me ugly?'

'Never!' Harry replied, kissing her sloppily on the corner of her mouth. James made a retching sound in the background, and Helen gave a short giggle.

'What, then?' Hermione asked, licking her lips seductively.

'You look funny when you're drunk,' Harry said bluntly.

'I'm not drunk!' Hermione protested breathily. 'I'm just a little…affected. You're the one who's drunk.'

'I so am not,' Harry said. 'I only had three glasses.'

'Three glasses too many.'

'Us Potter men cannot hold their liquor,' James lectured, his speech slightly slurred from his own three glasses. 'It's one of our very few flaws. As such, you should follow my example and keep away from the – '

'Oh, shut it,' Lily snapped. 'I've remember catching you absolutely pissed out of your mind far too many times to count when we were back at Hogwarts.'

'I was young and immature then,' James retorted.

'And you still are now,' Lily replied to general laughter. 'Though thankfully, only sometimes.'

'Only sometimes,' James emphasised.

'I'll give you that much,' Lily agreed reluctantly, and another round of chuckles ensued.

'What do you have planned over the Holidays?' Helen asked when the laughter died down.

'We're still having that Christmas Eve dinner?' James inquired.

Helen nodded. 'Of course. Are you guys doing anything on your own?'

'You're not going to join us?'

Josh shook his head. 'We'll be busy every day except Christmas Day and New Year's.'

'That's a shame,' James said sadly. 'Well…any ideas?'

'Why don't you go first?' Lily suggested. 'You're the one who brought up this topic.'

'Actually, that'll be Helen.'

'I've already contributed,' Helen replied. 'The Christmas Eve dinner was my idea. Back to you, James.'

'Fine,' James huffed. He tapped his chin in thought. 'We _could_ have a snowball fight.'

'No,' Lily shut him down firmly. 'You throw too hard. I don't need bruises everywhere on my body.'

'You're no fun,' James whined. 'Fine…Harry, you've got a broom, don't you?'

Harry shook his head. 'No…I don't. I lost my Firebolt the year before.'

'Ah, we'll get you another one,' James said. 'Nimbus is having a Holiday Special. Fifty percent off last year's model and all. We can go flying together.'

'In this weather?' Hermione asked, aghast. 'You'll freeze to death!'

James shrugged. 'We won't. Warming Charms are very useful. You can see for yourself.'

'I'm not going anywhere near a broom, thank you very much.'

'It'll be okay,' James coaxed. 'You won't die.'

'That's not exactly reassuring for her, James,' Lily murmured through gritted teeth.

James sighed. 'Maybe it wasn't…well, Hermione, I'm responsible. I won't ever let you get injured. Or even better, you could ride with Harry if you want. I'm sure he won't let anything happen to you. And you can put your arms around him and everything…it'll be so bloody romantic.'

'No thanks,' Hermione said with a measure of finality. 'I can do that on the ground perfectly fine, thank you very much. You can go risk your life, but I'll just sit back and do my own thing.'

'Your loss.'

'I'll keep you entertained,' Lily promised. 'We'll have a good laugh at these two idiots freezing themselves to death in the air while we sit around with a nice mug of cocoa.'

'We're not idiots!' Harry protested.

Hermione snorted, and somehow, that led him to begin laughing. That, in turn, managed to set off a chain reaction of laughter as the rest of the table erupted, first in soft chuckles, then in hearty guffaws. It was not even Christmas yet, but Harry already knew that this one would be the best one he ever had in his life.

* * *

The Christmas Holidays passed far too quickly. The two weeks had flown by at the speed of light, and soon, it was time to pack their bags again and return to Hogwarts. Harry was a little disappointed that the Holidays were over, but he did not feel too sad about it. There would be more, maybe better, Christmases to come.

There were too many great moments for Harry to remember any single one of them as particularly standout. Perhaps it was the afternoon that he and James had gone flying on their new Nimbus 2009's, and just as Hermione had warned, come back shivering and half frozen solid. She and Lily had had a good laugh at their expense at their sorry state, and even James thought that, in hindsight, that they probably should have listened to the girls.

Christmas Eve had been memorable, too. The Grangers had catered a feast that could rival that of Hogwarts for the evening, and even after every one of them stuffed themselves to the brim, there was still enough leftovers to last them days.

Though he did not particularly want to indulge in melancholy introspection, Harry could not help but think back to the previous Christmas Eve, when he and Hermione had stood in front of his parents' graves. A part of him wanted to push that memory out of his mind forever, for the erased events of seventeen years ago had little importance now. Yet at the same time, he found that he cherished that memory. If he had to compile a list of when he had fallen in love with Hermione, that night would most likely have been at the top.

Hogwarts felt…different…upon their return. Harry still felt a sort of distance from many of the others, but gone was the feeling of loneliness. He and Hermione did not have many – or any – close friends, but he felt more than okay with that. Outside of their little 'family' – Harry had been surprised at how easy it had been to call it that – there was not much more that he really needed.

Ron and Ginny seemed to have moved on, and Harry was happy for them. Whatever had or had not existed before the war had not managed to bridge the violent divide, and he was glad to see that they were building their lives anew. He and Hermione spoke to Neville and Luna – who seemed to have become romantically involved themselves – semiregularly, and Harry supposed that they were the closest ones they had to 'good friends'. As happy as he and Hermione were on their own, he was still glad for their friendship.

The next months were rhythmic, a good kind of boring. They went to classes, revised for N.E.W.T.'s, and did whatever their Head Student duties required of them. The Prefects – including the six completely new ones from Slytherin House – were easy enough to work with, so truthfully, he and Hermione never had to do too much. The two of them often spent whole evenings in their chambers, reading, talking, or doing whatever else they did. They did not often indulge themselves in the raucous Common Room parties, but the quiet life was exactly what they wanted, and both were happy with it.

And soon, graduation, the day that had once seemed so far away, was upon them. Harry woke up early that morning and took a walk, alone, around the Hogwarts grounds. He sat down at the foot of the tree by the shores of the Black Lake and looked out, remembering how he had felt the first time that he had arrived here, had crossed the lake in those little boats. Eight tribulation-filled years had passed since then, but if he had known then that his road would lead him here…he would have still taken it in a heartbeat.

Satisfied, Harry returned to the castle, taking in its corridors as he walked through. More than a year ago, they had been torn apart by battle, but now, there was scantly a trace of that violent past that remained visible. In his mind, too, the terrible memories seemed to drift further and further away. They were still there, but duller and relegated to the tapestry of life in the back of his mind.

He climbed the stairs up to Gryffindor Tower slowly. It was one of the last times, possibly, that he would be returning to the first place that he had ever called 'home'. The prospect of leaving, however, did not depress him as much as he once thought it would. 'Home' was where his heart laid, and though some part of it would forever remain here, he knew now that he belonged somewhere else.

He pushed open the door, and immediately saw Hermione sitting on the sofa, an anxious look on her face.

'Harry!' she shrieked, running up to him and enveloping him in a hug. 'Where have you been? I was so worried!'

'I took a walk,' Harry replied. 'I left you a note.'

'Oh. You did?'

'Did you not check your nightstand?'

Hermione pulled back, looking a little sheepish. 'I…uh…I woke up and didn't see you,' she whispered. 'And I went into panic mode. Sorry.'

Harry hugged her gently. 'It's okay,' he soothed, rubbing her back. 'I'd have panicked if you were missing, too.'

Hermione nodded into his shoulder and released him. 'Come on, let's go down. Lily just called. She'll be waiting for us in McGonagall's study in an hour.'

They walked down together and quickly ate breakfast in a mostly empty Great Hall. Most of the students, it seemed, were taking advantage of the end of exams and the late start of the ceremony to sleep in. When they finished, they leisurely made their way up to Headmistress's Study and knocked on the door.

'Come on in,' McGonagall called.

Harry and Hermione entered, and to Harry's delight, Lily was standing already in the middle of the room, a bright smile on her face.

'How are you this morning?' she asked, hugging them.

'Great,' Hermione replied, beaming. 'You're here early. Where's James?'

'James will be here later,' Lily answered. 'So will Sirius, and your parents.'

Hermione suddenly stopped in her tracks in surprise. 'My…my parents?'

'Helen and Josh Granger. Don't you know who they are?' Lily teased.

Hermione nodded dumbly. 'Yes…but aren't they muggles? Could they even _see_ Hogwarts?'

'Ah,' McGonagall cut in. 'That'll be my doing.'

'Wh-What do you mean?'

'I sent out invitations to the parents of the muggle-born,' McGonagall explained. 'The letters had a key to the muggle-repelling charms. They will be able to come and see Hogwarts, though only for the duration of the ceremony.'

Hermione's jaw opened and closed repeatedly, not sure what to say. 'I…that's amazing, Professor,' she squeaked out finally. 'Th-Thank you.'

'It was just one small step to further the inclusion of muggle-born wizards and witches in our society,' McGonagall said with a small smile. 'A step that should have been taken far sooner, in my opinion. Let me not cut further into you and Missus Potter's time together, though. I will see you at the ceremony, Potter, Miss Granger.'

The three of them made their way back up to the Head Students' Dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, talking excitedly. Lily had gotten a position with the Department of Mysteries, and Harry and Hermione congratulated her so profusely that she had to tell them to stop, red in the face.

'Ah…I remember this place,' Lily reminisced fondly when they arrived. 'All the memories of seventh year…things that I probably wouldn't want Minerva to know about.'

Harry suddenly felt his face heat up at his mother's insinuation. 'Right,' he murmured. 'That's…uh…great?'

'Uh-huh,' Lily said absently. 'I'm sure you two have your fair share of memories of this place that you'd prefer to keep between yourselves.'

Hermione looked at Lily with a mortified expression on her face. 'We…uh…we didn't do – '

' – anything that I didn't do,' Lily finished for her, smirking at the looks on Harry and Hermione's faces. 'Why don't you change into your dress robes? And Hermione, your hair…would you like me to braid it for you?'

'Uh…do you think it needs to be?' Hermione asked unsurely. 'Is there something wrong?'

'Of course there isn't,' Lily replied cheerfully. 'It's great the way it is. I just thought that you might want to try something…different…for today.'

Hermione looked conflicted for a second, but nodded in the affirmative. 'Sure, why not?'

'Great, change into your dress robes first, though,' Lily said. 'And then we can see what style matches them best.'

An hour later, they headed back down the spiral staircase, fully dressed and prepared. Lily had done Hermione's hair in an elegant bun, though Harry thought that she did not look more or less beautiful, simply…different. They said a temporary farewell to Lily at the door to McGonagall's study, then proceeded down into the Entrance Hall.

Students were already roughly lined up along the House Tables, the Prefects at the head of the table closest to the door. When Harry and Hermione entered, Flitwick guided them over to the front of the Gryffindor Table, right in front of Neville and Ginny.

'Ready for this, Harry?' Neville breathed in his ear.

'You know, not really,' Harry answered honestly. 'I've never been good at ceremonies.'

Neville patted him and Hermione on the shoulder, grinning. 'Me neither. Let's not screw this up _too_ badly, eh?'

On Flitwick's cue, Harry and Hermione led the students out of the Great Hall onto the grounds. Silvery chairs bearing the Hogwarts Seal had been arranged in a semicircle, and a stage was set up by the lake. Harry saw Lily, sitting with James, Sirius, and Hermione's parents, as he passed, and they all waved at him.

McGonagall showed them to their seats, and when everyone was finally seated, she took to the stage and began giving a speech. Harry looked out at the lake as she spoke about peace, unity, and equality, taking in the words and the view together, which somehow strengthened both symbols of what they had all struggled for in the past years.

Thankfully, the Head Students were not forced to give a speech, but McGonagall called them up to the stage to be acknowledged. Even that felt more than a little uncomfortable as every eye in the audience, it seemed, stared up and fixed on him. He bit his tongue, trying as hard as he could to not let it bother him.

Finally, McGonagall finished her segment and awarded them both a small golden statue of Hogwarts. They returned into the audience as the Prefects were called up one-by-one and handed each of them a small silver statue. Then, the rest of the students were called up, and each of them received the same, cast in bronze.

'This concludes your journeys at Hogwarts,' McGonagall announced as the last of the students took their seats. 'It has been a trying seven or eight years, full of never-before seen trials and tribulations. I have faith, however, seeing all that we have accomplished this year, that we will all emerge once again, stronger, as a result. Congratulations, everyone!'

With that, the ceremony broke up, and the students and families rose and began mingling amongst themselves. Harry and Hermione walked through the crowd, looking for their parents and giving default replies to 'well-wishers' and 'admirers'. Finally, they found them, standing on an empty part of the grounds a short distance away from the ceremonial setup.

'Congratulations,' several voices yelled at the same time. The five adults looked at each other, amused looks on their faces.

'Thanks,' Harry and Hermione called back as they walked up the grounds towards them. Arms swept them up in multi-way embraces that ended up as tangles of limbs. After many long minutes, they extricated themselves from each other, bright smiles on every single one of their faces.

'You've managed to graduate,' James said, ruffling Harry's hair. He grinned at Sirius conspiratorially. 'I think this calls for a celebration, doesn't it?'

'It certainly does,' Sirius replied with a mischievous grin. 'What say you, Lily?'

'Yes, it does,' Lily agreed. 'But no more than two drinks each,' she added warningly. 'And yes, that includes for you, James.'

'Aye, I agree,' Helen said, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulders and starting back up towards the castle. 'Not too crazy. Just a little.'

Musical laughter filled the air as they walked through the grounds, content and at ease. The warm summer breeze licked them gently, and bright sun shined down upon them caressingly, as a new chapter of their lives opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enormous thank-you's to Aani and maschl, without whose help this chapter would have been nowhere near as polished.


	16. From the New World

_In Flanders fields the poppies blow_

_Between the crosses, row on row,_

_That mark our place; and in the sky_

_The larks, still bravely singing, fly_

_Scarce heard amid the guns below._

_We are the Dead. Short days ago_

_We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,_

_Loved and were loved, and now we lie,_

_In Flanders fields._

_Take up our quarrel with the foe:_

_To you from failing hands we throw_

_The torch; be yours to hold it high._

_If ye break faith with us who die_

_We shall not sleep, though poppies grow_

_In Flanders fields._

* * *

_16 May 2008_

For most other people, the sixteenth of May was a day of no particular significance. At least this year, it fell on a Friday, and students and workers alike could look forward to a weekend of rest. Still, it was a typical, partly cloudy day – about as boring as days can get.

To the seven people currently gathered in a large Cambridgeshire house, this day was anything but typical. Ten years – a full decade – had passed since that fateful day in the late spring of 1998. Who could have known back then that a wand, a stone, and a cloak would change all of their lives so?

It was most certainly far from the typical day for Harry, nor for Hermione, it seemed, if her fidgeting was anything to go by. He reached over and took her hand, caressing it and drawing circles in the back of her hand. He felt the warm metal of the ring on her finger and could not help but smile. He was truly, undeniably, the luckiest man on earth.

Harry smiled at her, and she grinned back, tilting her head slightly in the others' direction. Harry shook his head. They had news that was burning a hole in both of their chests, but it would have to wait for the right moment.

'Ten years, can you believe it?' James said, taking a sip of red wine. 'Ten years with you, Harry. And you, Hermione. It's a miracle we're all still sane.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'I could say the same about you, Dad.'

'He probably could,' Lily agreed. 'You boys are all the same. Hermione knows what I'm talking about. Don't you, Hermione?'

'It's a daily test of patience,' Hermione replied with a snicker. Harry pouted at her maturely in response, and she stuck out her tongue, showing everyone who truly was the adult.

'Like you're such a paragon of maturity yourself,' Helen teased.

'I have my moments,' Hermione qualified. 'But on the whole…I'm not Harry. Or James. Or Sirius. Or you, Dad.'

'Oi, don't drag _me_ into this!'

'So, ten years, huh?' Sirius said when the laughter died down. 'More like twelve years for me. I still remember the first time I met you two for real, Harry, and Hermione, of course. Never one "H" without the other.'

'In the Shrieking Shack,' Harry reminisced. 'And then Remus came in…then Snape…'

Sirius and James's faces fell sad at the mention of Remus's name. 'Yes…Moony…'

'He would be happy if he saw what we are now,' Lily consoled. 'And his son…he loves you and James like fathers. And you two, Harry, Hermione. There's no good in grieving over the fact that he isn't with us here. Be happy that you _did_ know him.'

James swallowed and nodded slowly. 'Yeah…you're right. Sometimes, though, it just…'

'I know…but he lives on,' Harry said hopefully. 'His son is just like him…'

'How's Teddy, Harry?' James asked, his face lighting up at the mention of the young boy.

'We went to see him last week,' Hermione answered. 'He's just had his tenth birthday last month. He couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts next year. His Metamorphagus abilities have fully matured, too: he could change almost any aspect of his appearance at will now.'

'I wish I could see him more,' James lamented. 'I know I should…but work's just been so busy. A class of five new Psychological Healers in their last months of specialty training. The workload is impossible.'

'He probably would appreciate a visit,' Hermione replied. 'But he'll understand. You're literally reforming all of magical medicine. Work comes first.'

'Soon, the first Healers I trained would have enough experience to take trainees of their own,' James said hopefully. 'Can't wait until that day.'

'When that day comes, you'll want to keep doing it,' Josh said sagely. 'Healing people has something gratifying about it. You want to keep doing it no matter how tiring it feels.'

'Oh, sure,' James replied. 'Doesn't mean I'm not going to be happy about not having to train every new Psychological Healer on my own. Remember when I used to pull eighteen-hour days, juggling between university and St Mungo's? I'm not sad at all that those days are over.'

Helen and Josh grimaced. 'I don't know how you managed to handle that, James,' Helen said. 'It should've sapped any normal person.'

'The thing is, I am quite extraord-agh!'

James was interrupted by Lily pinching his arm. 'Sorry for interrupting. I think James meant to say, "My head is extraordinarily big."'

The whole table laughed, and James had the humility to look at least a little ashamed of himself. Big-headed or not, though, Harry really did think that what James had managed to accomplish in ten short years had been nothing short of extraordinary. St Mungo's, which had so ineffectively 'treated' Sirius's mental trauma all those years ago with Dreamless Sleep Potion, now had a fully-fledged psychology wing, complete with sixteen full-time Psychological Healers and five more in training. It was no overstatement at all, in his opinion, when the _Daily Prophet_ extolled James as the wizard who had 'revolutionised Healing' in the new millennium.

Hermione had entered the Wizengamot, and had been instrumental in pushing through laws that protected equal rights and opportunity for people of all blood statuses, while eliminating previously codified discrimination against werewolves, goblins, as well as those that had kept legal the abuse of House-Elves. Lily, meanwhile, could not talk about her work by magical contract, but Harry knew that she had risen to a high position in the Department of Mysteries. Sirius had gotten work as an engineer at Nimbus Brooms, and often delighted James by bringing home all the latest models.

Compared to them, these last five years had been almost unremarkable for Harry, but he did not complain. He liked his post as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, as well as co-Head of Gryffindor House along with Neville. It was peaceful, and teaching was a rather rewarding experience, despite the heavy workload at times. He had been approached by Gawain Robards multiple times about joining the Auror Office, but he had always turned the offers down firmly. After everything that had happened, nothing save for the most extraordinary circumstances was going to make him pick up a wand again in combat.

'Is everyone ready for the cake?' Helen asked, pushing back her chair.

James checked his watch. 'It's been an hour since we'd finished…I reckon we've all cleared room in our stomachs for something sweet.'

Helen and Josh rose from the table and walked out into the kitchen. A minute together, they returned, lifting an enormous fruit cake between them. Slowly and carefully, they lowered it down on the table, while James and Sirius scrambled to clear space.

'Going to be torture walking that off,' James muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

'You'll have to get through the mountain of food you ate before first,' Josh said with a laugh. 'It's a lost endeavour, mate.'

'Make sure you all brush your teeth carefully after,' Hermione lectured in a perfect imitation of her mother's voice. 'You don't want to get cavities.'

Helen snorted. 'Have you been practising?'

Hermione blushed faintly. 'Maybe.'

'Well, good on you,' Helen said. 'One day, you will recite it to your kids every time they have sugar.'

Hermione exchanged a furtive look and a knowing grin with Harry. 'I'll make sure to do it in your voice, Mum.'

'Well, your kids will always remember to brush their teeth, at least. Shall we cut the cake?'

Josh handed over the knife, and Helen cut out eight wide slices, loading one onto each of their plates. They all dug in heartily, and despite the enormous size of Helen's slices, they all devoured the cake in less than ten minutes.

'Merlin,' Sirius groaned, suppressing a belch. 'Eat any more, and I'll start to look like Slughorn.'

'Going to have to do some more "test-flying" on your Nimbus 3000?' James asked snidely.

'It might not lift off the ground with my weight on it,' Sirius murmured. 'We'll have to build a whole new broom from the ground up, just for me.'

'More samples for the broom shed, then,' James chortled. 'I have nothing to complain about.'

They sat, sipping their drinks and chattering about this and that, for almost an entire hour. Harry discreetly checked his watch. It was nearing ten, and they might be splitting up soon. He gave a glance over at Hermione, asking with his eyes. She nodded.

Harry waited for a silence and cleared his throat. Five pairs of eyes settled on him, a curious look held in all of them.

'I have an announcement to make. Or rather…Hermione does.'

'Can't you just say it and get it over with?' Hermione whispered waspishly.

Harry shook his head. 'This should be your announcement to make.'

Hermione nodded and stood up nervously. 'Uh…announcement. Right.'

'What is it?' Lily asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

'Well…Harry and I have been married for almost six years…and we've both settled into our careers and lives. So…uh…we thought that this would be a good time to…uh…'

Lily and Helen suddenly sat back in their seats at that, knowing and triumphant looks on their faces, obviously having figured out what was happening. Harry leaned forward in his seat, fingering his wedding band nervously as Hermione continued.

'What I meant to say was that…Harry and I…we're having a baby.'

Hermione sat back down, shaking a little and blushing. Everyone else in the room looked shocked for a long few seconds, and then, the room erupted in cheers.

'How long?'

'When's the due date?'

'Boy or girl?'

'Do you know if it's magical?'

'Have you thought of names?'

'We only found out three days ago,' Hermione said over the din. 'We haven't thought of any of that yet…'

'Then start thinking about it!' Lily cried back excitedly. 'It's never too early to start! You know, we settled on "Harry" about a month into my pregnancy.'

'It took us seven months to decide on "Hermione",' Josh counterpointed. 'You're good with lists, Hermione. Get started on one.'

Hermione chuckled. 'I've already started three, actually.'

'That's my girl,' Helen said proudly. She raised her glass in toast, and everyone else raised their glasses, joining her. 'To Harry and Hermione's baby, who, I'm sure, is destined to become one of the bravest, most brilliant, and damn it, most planner-crazy witch or wizard the world has ever seen!'

And Harry knew that if he and Hermione looked into the Mirror of Erised now, they would see nothing but themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. I hope that you have enjoyed my take on the Jily Meets Harmony Challenge, and I encourage you to check out the other challenge entries if you liked mine. Thank you for reading, as well as for all your support and feedback in these last few months.
> 
> My sincerest gratitude goes to Aani and maschl for all the help that they have rendered me in the process of writing this story.
> 
> The poem at the beginning of this chapter is 'In Flanders Fields' by the Canadian John McCrae.
> 
> I have done a personal/future plans update at the end of every one of my stories, so here I continue this tradition. As you may have noticed, my upload rate has decreased in these first months of 2021 from what it had been in the latter half of 2020. I have become very busy with my studies recently, and I have had to pause writing and planning completely in the last several weeks, including being forced to shelve indefinitely The Flame of Resistance past Chapter XXIX due to these and other factors. I am not, at this moment, planning to retire or leave the fandom, however, and I am in the very beginning stages of planning a series-length Year 1-7 re-write with a world built fully from the ground up, aiming at the scale of Invieri's incredible Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, which I also highly recommend you read. This will take a long time to get off the ground, however, for I plan to work out and sketch out large parts of the story before even beginning to write. I do not have any timeframe for this project, but it will not be released anytime in the immediate future.
> 
> I will be going dormant for a while now that this story has been completed, only uploading pre-written chapters of The Flame of Resistance every week or so. Well wishes and good health to you all, and I will see you again, hopefully, later this year.


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